What's Your Poison?
by CharlieCaller
Summary: Mikey's family are in disbelief when he returns to the lair drunk one night. But as the situation unfolds, they find that things are not all they seem. Complete.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: The characters used in this story do not belong to me; they belong to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and related companies. I am not making any money from their use in this story.

Notes: Finally I'm making an attempt at a lengthier story - feedback much appreciated. Thanks to Reinbeauchaser for helping me with some of the US terminology. Lastly, I'm not trying to place a negative value on having a good night out with some drink. (Heck no.)

* * *

What's Your Poison?

* * *

Prologue

His bandana ties danced in the breeze. The silhouette of the turtle stood at the edge of the building, staring over the city coated in nightfall. He idly flipped a sai between his fingers, his mind consumed in thought.

'A wise rat once said, "Faith is knowing that something is true, even if we do not see it." But sometimes, it's not that easy,' he thought to himself. 'The scenario: It's the middle of the night, and I'm in a dark, stinking sewer when my brother is brought home, drunk as a skunk. All the facts are right there before my eyes, how can I possibly think otherwise? When your brother struggles to stand up straight and slurs his speech to try and tell his he's not drunk, what am I to believe? When he says he couldn't remember any of his actions, am I supposed to think that he didn't really go out and get drunk?

'Just maybe, once in a while, I should have faith. I should believe what _I want_ to believe.'

* * *


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

The day was drawing to the evening as the four great figures made their way out of the Dojo, accompanied by their smaller Sensei. "You have done well today, my sons," Splinter said in his ever-calm voice. "You may now relax before dinner."

Leonardo, Raphael and Donatello all headed to the living room. Leo and Raph both sat on the couch and began to bicker over what to watch on the television, whilst Donny sat on the ground next to them, tinkering with a broken ShellCell. For a few minutes the three sat in silence, only the noise of the blaring television filling the room. When a commercial break started the silence continued, until Donny raised the question, "Hey, where did Mikey go?"

As Leo looked around, searching for any sign of his brother in the living area, Raphael glanced at the closed door to the side and said, "He went to his room."

"I take it you haven't got around to apologising yet," Leonardo said wearily, turning to face his brother. The shake of the red-banded turtle's head confirmed this.

"Come on, Leo, have you seen him lately? He's still fuming from last night – if I even looked at him the wrong way now he'd probably use my head for part of a drum kit."

"I think you may have a point there. I could tell he was still angry by the way he was sparring with me today," Donatello said, rubbing a sore spot on his arm. "But you know Mikey, he's slow to anger and even slower to cool down afterwards."

"You'd better do it soon," Leonardo advised Raphael. "We're going to help clear April's basement tomorrow, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," Raphael said, brushing Leo's reminder away with a wave of his hand. "I'll do it later, okay? I'll give him a chance to chill after training."

"Just as long as you do," Leo said, turning his attention back to the television.

Not far away, in his bedroom, the parting words of Splinter were still ringing in Mikey's ears. "You have done well today, my sons." Yeah, right, Mikey scoffed in thought. He drowned out his Master's reverberating words with his rock music on his personal stereo.

Splinter was not totally wrong, Mikey thought to himself - some sons had done well that day. As usual, Leonardo had performed with precision and perfection, pleasing his Master greatly. Donatello had worked hard that day, giving it his all and reaping the reward of praise for this. Raphael too had worked well, and produced results. As he tended to do, he used his anger to fuel him, something that Splinter frowned upon, but today the Sensei found that Raphael had begun to control the anger, and almost direct it rather than let it take him over, and he commended this.

Michelangelo, though, had a poor session in comparison to his brothers, and did not feel as though he had "done well," as his Master had said. He had fumbled almost every manoeuvre, lost each battle against both Splinter and Donatello, and had even managed to trip over the latter's bo staff that lay discarded on the floor. Instead of joining the others as they sat on the couch and watched the television, he went straight to his room where he could be alone with his music and his thoughts.

It was not only the practice of that evening that was making the usually animated Mikey feel so low, but also the memories of the battle the previous night. Trouble had been reported in Central Park, and thinking it could be the Foot, the Turtles set out, armed and ready. It was not the Foot, but only some young hooligans causing trouble for passers by.

When the Turtles arrived, they found the seven amateur thugs attempting to mug an elderly man. They stepped in to allow the man to escape, before the thugs took them on.

Mikey had two thugs take him on, and as Raph had put it, he got "clobbered" by the both of them. At first he took on one, and did not realise that a second lurked behind him. The second, a bulky character with a sizeable tattoo of a dragon snaking around his sizeable bicep, took both of Mikey's legs out with one swipe and kicked him swiftly in the chest, knocking the air out of him. The first thug took advantage of this, and took Mikey's nunchucks from him, not sure quite how to use them but still intent on doing damage. It was at that moment that Leonardo had noticed that Mikey was in difficulty, and so after finishing with his own foe he sprung across and into the back of the first brute, knocking him to the ground before he could strike Mikey.

Mikey was thankful, of course, but still embarrassed and ashamed that as a well-trained ninja he could not hold his own against a couple of street thugs.

After the fight was over, Donny found Mikey sitting on the ground, slightly stunned that he had required help against the amateur fighters. "We all have off-days, you'll be better tomorrow," he had said encouragingly, giving a pat on the shoulder. Mikey nodded absently, and quickly joined the others as they returned to the sewers.

On the journey home, Raphael had done nothing to help matters by rubbing salt into the wounds. "You sure you don't need extra lessons or something, Mike? If that's how you're gonna handle yourself against a couple of wannabe street kids, what are you gonna do when the Shredder wants to play?"

Mikey said nothing, keeping his teeth gritted and his eyes fixed on ground as he walked. The last thing he needed right at that moment was a scuffle with Raph, but right then it seemed inevitable.

"Enough, Raphael," Leo said sternly, aiming to put an end to the mockery there and then.

"He's got his bro to fight his battles for him, again," Raph taunted, now on a roll. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he needed to relieve some of the tension following the fight and if that meant teasing Mikey rather than physically taking out his anger on something or someone, then so be it. "What's the matter, Mikey? Lost the fight in you, huh?"

Both Donny and Leo were amazed that Mikey had resisted the verbal abuse this long, and it was of little surprise to them when he finally broke. With a roar, Mikey launched himself towards his brother, and the two tussled and tumbled in the sewer pipe for some moments, before Leo and Donny managed to wrench them off of each other.

"Mikey," Donny called, but to no avail. The moment he was freed from his brother's arms, Mikey hurried on ahead towards his bedroom in the lair, a refuge from further taunting courtesy of Raph.

Meanwhile, unbeknown to him, both Leo and Donny began to reprimand Raph. "That's not how it's done, Raph," Leo admonished, folding his arms and frowning. "Kicking a guy when he is down is not the honourable way to go. We all have our bad days, you know, there's no need to make it any worse."

Raph opened his mouth to talk back, but he stopped and shut it again. "I'll go apologise to him," he muttered, knowing he deserved the telling-off.

"Leave it a while, at least until he cools off a bit," Donny advised, knowing that Mikey was slow to anger, and slow to calm down afterwards. Even if he knew that Raph intended to apologise, Mikey would not at that moment be ready to accept, or even see him. Raph nodded, and silence resumed save the sounds of feet padding along the metal floor as the three Turtles finished the journey home.

Even a day later, after the training of the evening, Raph had not come to apologise to Mikey. Not that Mikey knew this was his brother's intention, or even cared, he was just happy to stay out of everyone's way for a while.

Alone with the rock music and his thoughts, Mikey began to ask questions. He cast doubt upon his abilities as a ninja, and wondered whether Raph was indeed right about losing the fight within him. Not only had he used up his "off-day" quota in the fight against the park thugs the previous evening, but the training session that day had also been disastrous.

"Maybe Raph's right," Mikey murmured to himself, "maybe I am losing my touch."

He wondered what he would do if he was not a ninja. More to the point, he wondered how he would survive. He would have to be totally dependable on his brothers to live, and he would not be able to risk going into the topside world, as he would not be able to defend himself if he were attacked. He was grateful for his abilities, but the thought of losing those ninja skills caused a dark fear to rise up from deep inside him. He needed those skills to survive.

"No wonder they say I'm a goof-off," he mumbled to himself. He was always the funny one, no mistaking that, but with that label came the reputation of not taking anything seriously, including his ninja training. He was bothered about it, of course, but not to the extent of his brothers. He would always be the one messing around where the others were trying to work or concentrate, and right then Mikey realised that this was his downfall.

"Raphael _is _right. I've got to do something about it," he said, determined to work hard and to become as good a ninja as his three brothers. In reality, he was up to their standard, but if he had been told that right then, he would not have believed it. Recent events laid heavy on his mind, blocking out other memories of when he had been successful during battle. He felt he had to catch up to his brothers, and he felt that it was miles to go before he could reach their rank. He resolved to persevere, and to do his brothers and Master Splinter proud by turning over a new leaf and doing so.

* * *

Five minutes to midnight. Mikey poked his head outside the door to his room, looking around to see if anyone was still awake. Silence, nothing moving. Stealthily, he moved across the room quickly, determined to be out of the lair without making a single noise.

At least I managed that, he thought to himself as he pounded down one of the tunnels in the sewers, now well clear of the lair. He had made up his mind to go topside for some ninja training. He did not intend to fight, but to improve his awareness, stealth, and other non-contact techniques, and to be back before the morning sun rose.

He climbed out of the manhole cover and quickly made his way towards the nearest alley. He ascended the side of the building skilfully, and once of the rooftop he began his practice.

* * *


	3. Chapter Two

Notes: Thank you for all the kind reviews – they were really encouraging! I'd been struggling a little with writing a long story (curse my lack of attention span!) but I'll persevere, definitely.

* * *

Chapter Two

In the small hours of the morning, Raphael awoke to the hum of the flickering television. He was alone in the living room, having evidently fallen asleep on the couch. He sat up and rubbed his eyes before they focused on the aquamarine numbers on the VCR clock, clearly showing the time at a quarter to two in the morning. "Jeez," Raphael murmured to himself.

He stood up, and was about to advance to his room when he noticed that Mikey's door was slightly ajar. He frowned. If Mikey had spent the entire evening in his room, without even leaving to eat dinner, then after Mikey fell asleep, either someone went in or he went out.

Raphael crept over to the door, peeked through the crack and saw by the slit of light shining over the empty bed that it was his latter consideration. "Peachy," he growled to himself.

The red-banded turtle quietly searched the lair before he gave up and concluded that his brother had snuck outside their home. Raphael had absolutely no idea where to start looking, or whether Mikey would be somewhere in the sewers or if he would have gone up to street level. As much as he hated to ask for help, he knew that he had to call in reinforcements. He braced himself for the two rude awakenings that he was about to make.

* * *

Casey Jones, hockey-masked vigilante, had spent the night doing what he usually did; picking fights with the Purple Dragons. By half past two that morning, he was cold, tired and wet from the night-time rainshower. He shook his head, sending droplets of water flying from the tips of his shoulder-length hair, and decided to call it a night. He was on his way back to his apartment when he heard a noise over the patter of the rain. He stopped dead still and listened, trying to determine what the noise was. He heard it again, and frowned when he couldn't determine what it was.

He drew his chosen weapon, which was at that time a baseball bat, and slipped into stealth mode. He followed the noise to a deserted alley with several dumpsters and piles of trash lining it. Picking his way past a grubby, sopping newspaper, Casey reached the silhouette of the source of the noise. With his pat poised, he neared the silhouette. He took one last step behind the figure, and was ready to strike when suddenly the figure heard the noise, turned his head and his eyes met with Casey's. Suddenly Casey gasped and retreated a few steps.

"What the..."

* * *

"...Shell is it with this kid? Why does he decide to take a midnight stroll without telling anyone first?" Raphael muttered as he trudged through the tunnel. He was cranky from lack of sleep, especially when he remembered the reason why he was awake in the small hours of the morning.

"Cool it, Raph," Leo said in a warning tone. The last thing anyone needed at that moment was Raphael in a mood.

"I know, I know," Raph said, 'cooling' for a moment as Leonardo had instructed. "But Jeez, what'd he have to go out for? He knows better than that. Well, then again, this is Mikey we're talking about," he added dryly, more to himself than anyone else. In all honesty, Raphael thought to himself, even though Mikey did not take everything (or sometimes anything) seriously, surely he had more sense than to go wandering off in the middle of the night without telling anyone?

The reasons behind Raphael's bad mood lay deeper than being tired. He felt responsible for Mikey running off. If he had apologised earlier, he could have stop it, he thought to himself. In fact, if he had listened to Leo and not teased him at all, he could have prevented Mikey's sudden departure. Raphael mentally cursed himself for being so pig-headed.

"He's not exactly been himself recently," Donny mused, thinking about his brother's behaviour over the past couple of days. He had gone from party animal to anti-social in the space of just over twenty-four hours, and the change in him was sudden and staggering. "Where do you think he could have gone?" He asked in a quiet voice.

Leo sighed. "He could be anywhere," he admitted. "We'll all split up. Raph, you take the sewers, Donny can hit the streets and I'll..."

Leonardo was cut off by noises rumbling and echoing through the tunnel. He put his finger to his lips to motion the others to hush, and slowly took the kantana blades from where they were strapped to the back of his shell. Both Raph and Donny also removed their weapons from their holds, poised and ready for a possible battle.

They turned a corner, and the noises became louder. Donatello stopped with realisation and said, "I know one of those voices."

Leo also stopped, listened, and added, "and I know the other one."

A few steps later, and the source of the noise passed under a grate with a yellow streetlight above it. Droplets of water ran through the holes as the last of the rain ran through them. The streetlight cast slits of eerie shadows over Casey, who was struggling to help support Mikey. The orange-banded turtle's arm was slung over one of Casey's shoulders, and he was focusing hard on the ground as he tried to stagger along.

"Geez, Mike, you put on weight or something?" Casey grunted, eyes narrow with the effort of holding the almost-dead weight.

Mikey mumbled something incoherent, and let out an uncontrolled chortle at the comment that only he could hear.

Leonardo recognised the party of two, and replaced his blades in their holds as he ran towards them. Casey looked up and stopped when he saw the leader and the two other brothers not far behind. "Man, am I glad to see you guys," he panted, relaxing as Leo took his brother's weight from him. "It wasn't so bad until I had to carry him down the ladder into the sewers."

"Casey, what happened?" Leonardo asked, adding, "How long have you been out – you're soaking!"

"Leo!" Mikey slurred in a raised voice, a smile appearing on his face. "W-watcha doing here, huh?" He paused for a moment. "Uh, where is here anyhow-way?" He looked around, trying to get his bearings as his brothers watched him with wide eyes. "Oh," he said as realisation dawned, "I'm in the sewer, got it now."

"I found him like this," Casey explained, gesturing to Mikey's present form. "I don't know what happened – I couldn't get anything rational out of him, I'm sorry."

Raphael had approached his brother and for the first time noticed the bleeding cut on his head and the swollen mark on his shoulder. "Mikey, who the Shell did this to you?" He demanded, drawing his weapons, thinking that the culprits would still be nearby. No one hurt his brother and got away with it, not before they answered to Raphael, that is.

"Did what to me?" Mikey mumbled in confusion, looking past Raphael with unfocused eyes.

Donatello also moved towards Michelangelo as well, but he stopped short. He stood still, as though looking at the big picture and trying to assess the situation. He quickly did so, and when he came up with a conclusion, he wished he hadn't.

"He must have got the cut when he fell over," Donny murmured quietly, but loud enough for his brothers to hear.

"What do you mean, Don?" Leonardo asked, frowning.

"No one did this to Mikey, he did it to himself," Donny explained, fumbling for the right words. Eventually, he gave up and opted for the direct approach. "Mikey's drunk."

Two pairs of eyes widened in surprise as Casey clarified this. "That's how I found him, drunk in a Dumpster. He was alone when I found him, there was no one else in the area. There was no sign of any alcohol either, but still–"

"All the indicators are there," Donatello nodded gravely. As much as he hated to admit it, Mikey showed the signs of someone having just completed a bar crawl. His speech was loud and slurred, he was disorientated and unable to focus, and he had considerable trouble standing up. He added, "He even smells of drink."

For a moment, no one said anything, and so Casey took advantage of the uncomfortable moment of silence and said, "Look guys, I gotta be getting back now, can you get him home okay?"

"We'll be fine from here," Leo mumbled. "Thanks for bringing him back, Casey."

"No trouble," Casey replied quietly, before turning and heading back down the tunnel towards the nearest manhole.

Leonardo paused a moment to gather himself before he addressed his brother. He took the logical approach. "Mike, can you remember where you went, or how much you had?"

"When? What'd I do?" Mikey said loudly, looking around the tunnel as if searching for the person who had spoken to him.

"I'll tell you what you did, Mikey, you just went and made the biggest mistake of your freakin' life!" Raphael boomed. He was having trouble seeing why his brother decided to go out and get drunk. Or, more to the point, how he could have done it without being spotted. "You've just blown the lid clean off our cover. The cops'll be out looking for a big, plastered turtle. How are we gonna stop the Shredder with the topside world breathing down our necks?"

"Raph, there's no point..." Leo said, but he was cut off by Raphael's fury.

"Sometimes, pal, you gotta take things seriously, and being a ninja is one of those things. We're not just here to party, you know! We do have some kind of purpose apart from reading comic books, watching TV and fighting the occasional bad guy. You can't mix alcohol with that – I mean are you crazy? You could have done anything with your weapons in your state and not remember it in the morning, and by the looks of it you got into some kind of fight anyway," he said, pointing with a sai to the wound on his brother's head. "There are plenty of things to do down here, why'd you have to go out and get drunk to find your fun, huh?" He turned to Leo and Donny and said, "Splinter's gonna have a few words to say about this little party, and I'm thinking he's not gonna be jumping for joy when you guys bring him home. I'm not having nothing to do with it – you two can explain it, I've had it with him." With that, he bounded down the tunnel and back to where his bed awaited him.

After taking a moment to soak up all that Raphael had just said, Donny turned to Leo and said, "I don't think there are any words left for Master Splinter to say after that."

Mikey, his reactions slower than normal, said in a loud voice, "Uh-oh, I think I got in trouble."

"You think?!" Came an angry voice echoing through the tunnels.

"He's probably mad because it was Mikey that got drunk, and not him," Leo said quietly, sighing. "Come on, let's get him back before he causes any more damage." The turtles slowly began to escort Mikey down to the sewer in the direction of their lair. "Man, Mikey, when you go out to do something, you sure do it in style."

"Uh, what'd I do?" Mikey asked in a thick, slurred voice. His feet clumsily danced over each other as his brothers, with one arm each, led him down the tunnel and back towards their home.

"You're sure gonna have a sore head in the morning," Leonardo muttered.

None of the turtles had drunk alcohol before, as Master Splinter had forbidden it, but they knew the effects of it. They had seen the representations on the television, but now they were experiencing it first hand. Leonardo sniffed at that moment, and said, "Casey wasn't wrong when he said he found you in a Dumpster. You sure reek, Mikey."

"Yeah, it stinks in here, dark too," Mikey rambled, swaying from side to side as he walked.

"You've got no idea what you're talking about," Leo muttered, shaking his head slightly. "What did you go and have to do that for, huh? Raph's right, you didn't need to go to the surface to have fun. I bet you won't even remember what you did the in the morning."

"Uh, Leo, I'm really tired," Mikey moaned, dragging his feet.

"You can go to sleep soon," Leo said, sighing. Of all his brothers, it was accepted that Raphael was the one to get himself into trouble, not Mikey. Mikey may have been a dreamer, a party animal, maybe even a goof-off at times, but he never went out of his way to get himself into trouble, certainly not to this degree. Not a lot got to Mikey, but when something did he would usually end up doing something irrational on a large scale, and this was a great example of that. But, it took a lot to get to Mikey, and Leo wondered what exactly had caused this great upset. Perhaps the past few days of poor performance had frustrated Mikey more than anyone had known.

After a few more minutes of struggling to half walk, half drag the talkative and hyperactive Mikey through the sewers, they eventually came to the lair, where they knew that their Sensei would undoubtedly be waiting. He would have either woken up to find no one there, or would have heard Raph stomping in and would have questioned the nature of the night-time excursion. So it was no surprise to Leo and Donny when they saw the Master standing just to one side of the doorway, his arms folded with his staff in one hand.

Splinter need ask no question, his eyes said it all. They were dark, filled with all kinds of emotions from anger to anxiety, but the strongest, deepest one was disappointment. He was disappointed in Raphael, Donatello and Leonardo for not telling him that their brother was missing, and he was disappointed in Michelangelo for going out and doing what he did. Those eyes demanded an explanation and they demanded it now.

Leo was the first to dare to speak. "Mikey was missing, so we went out to look for him," he said, gesturing to Mikey, who was at that moment having a problem trying to remain vertical. Leonardo tried to remain calm but it was not easy - he had never seen his Master looking so angry.

Splinter nodded, having an idea that this would be the case. He wondered how exactly Michelangelo was discovered to be missing in the middle of the night, but those questions would be answered later. At that moment, there was more pressing business to attend to.

"Leonardo, Donatello, please leave so I can speak with your brother, alone," Splinter said coolly, stressing the last word. Leo and Donny nodded and quietly left the room. They shut the door to the living area and literally bumped into Raphael, who had been listening at the door.

Donny smiled wryly at his brother. "Thought you weren't having anything to do with it?"

Raphael shrugged. "I'm not. But I'm still not missing it."

"Whatever, just be quiet," Leo hushed them, opening the door a crack to be able to hear.

Splinter had guided Mikey to sit in the armchair, since it was clear that he would not be able to stand up on his own for long. He stood solidly before him, his back to the door where Mikey's three brothers were intently listening.

"Michelangelo," Splinter growled. "I fear you will not recall much of this conversation in the morning, but perhaps the great headache you shall have will be something for you to remember. You have disappointed me tonight, by going out alone, without informing anyone, and by your actions on the topside world.

"I have taught you of this drink the humans call alcohol, and of it's dangers. You have lost all awareness of yourself, and in doing so you forget what you are, and what you are to the human world. I have explained to you countless times that you must not be seen, and the reasons why. How can you possibly expect to keep a low profile if you are under the influence of alcohol? You could have done anything during your time in the city, and you will have little or no recollection of it in the morning, due to your current state. You could have spoken to anyone about anything; you could have even attacked someone! Do you understand me, Michelangelo?"

Mikey swallowed, he knew that something was very wrong but he was not quite aware enough to work out what. He looked past Splinter to the couch, somewhere he wanted to crawl onto right at that moment. The room swayed, and he blinked a few times to try and regain his senses.

"Look at me, Michelangelo!" Splinter snapped, taking hold of Mikey's chin with his furry, sharp-clawed hand and moving it so that their eyes locked. Splinter's, deep with anger, faced Mikey's bloodshot, glassy eyes with pupils that would not quite focus.

"Go to your room," Splinter commanded, looking away in disgust. He knew that talking to Mikey at that time would be of no use to anyone, and in order to get any sense out of the turtle he should wait until morning, when one and all would have clearer (and in Mikey's case, heavier) heads.

Mikey stood up unsteadily, and took three stumbling steps before he fell to the floor in a heap.

Not blinking, with his back still to the door, Splinter called out, "Leonardo, please escort your brother to his bedroom."

Donatello almost smiled. "Boy, he doesn't miss anything."

Both Leo and Donny returned to the living room, leaving Raphael to quietly slip away to his room. They each picked up one of Mikey's arms and led him down the hallway to his bedroom. As they laid their brother on his bed, Donny suggested, "Lay him face down, in case he decides to throw up in the night, or morning, or whatever time it is now."

Mikey was now unconscious, and although this made him a dead weight, at least now he had stopped fidgeting. Once they had tucked him in, both Leo and Donny stood back, watching their brother as he slept.

"Master Splinter is not going to be in a good mood for a while," Leo remarked quietly, remembering that look in his master's eyes when they had brought Mikey back home. It was like a thunderstorm of grey rumblings and flashes of lightning occupied those angry eyes, and put Leo ill at ease. He could not remember seeing Splinter quite so angry, and during their younger days the four turtles had tried and tested his patience to the limits and beyond. "But he's right, you know. Mikey could have done anything up there and not remember in the morning. He could have told every New Yorker about us, where our lair is, anything about the Shredder, because he didn't know what he was doing. I think we'll have to keep a low profile for a while, just to be safe."

"But we promised to go up to April's tomorrow, to clean out her basement. Besides, what if the Foot strike?"

Leo sighed, knowing that his brother was right. "As long as we're not spotted, we'll be all right. We'll go, but in the shadows and not on the streets. If we think that we're in trouble of being spotted, we bail, got it?"

"Got it."

* * *


	4. Chapter Three

Note: Thanks again for all the kind reviews! Finally I'm out of the rut that I got myself into with this story, so updates should be more frequent. Hope you like it.

* * *

Chapter Three

* * *

Raphael, Leonardo and Donatello were awake and had almost finished their breakfast when Michelangelo eventually stumbled out of his bedroom. He clutched at his head and looked somewhat green, at least more than usual. He considered going to eat some breakfast, but thought better of it and headed straight for the couch, upon which he laid and groaned. Raphael rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath.

"Morning, Mikey," Donny said cheerfully, ignoring Raph's comments. "How're you feeling?"

"Man, what'd we do last night?" Mikey asked, using his arm to shield his eyes from the light. At that moment, his head felt like it was going to implode, his tongue felt like a cashmere sweater and his stomach felt like it had just experienced a trip in the van with April driving.

"We were hoping that you could tell us," Donny said, getting up from his seat and moving to his workbench. He was somewhat troubled by Mikey's lack of memory, as even people who ended up being sick and passing out following their night at least remembered actually getting to the bar.

"Huh?" Mikey uttered, thoroughly confused.

Leo explained, "You went out alone last night, and Casey found you. He brought you back to the sewers and you were, uh..."

"You were drunk as a skunk," Raphael finished for him in a blunt fashion.

"What?" Mikey asked in disbelief.

"Wasted, smashed, nissed as a pewt..."

"Alright, okay, I get it. But how? I never went to any bars, and I definitely don't remember drinking anything." It had to be a joke, Mikey thought to himself; a practical joke most probably set up by Raphael. He could not have seriously gone topside and mixed with humans, drinking to the point of completely losing his memory. Could he?

"Michelangelo, can you remember what you _did _do?" Splinter asked quietly as he walked into the room. He was of a much calmer temperament than last night, when the turtles had last seen him, and Mikey's brothers secretly guessed that he had been meditating long and hard over the matter concerning the orange-clad turtle.

Mikey opened his mouth to speak, but he soon shut it again. "I can't remember," he murmured, sitting up on the couch to face the others. "I can't remember anything after I went to bed last night. All I know is, I went to bed and I woke up with a head that feels like a truck ran over it." He swallowed, knowing the answer anyway but still asking, "Are you, like, serious about me going out to bars and stuff?"

"We don't know where you got the alcohol, but when Casey got you home last night, you were seriously drunk," Leo said, remembering the events. "You couldn't walk or talk straight, you didn't have a clue what you were doing. Whatever you had, you had a shelluva lot of it."

"Michelangelo, I hope you realise the consequences of your actions last night," Splinter said evenly, advancing to the couch. "Whilst on the surface, you could have done or said anything to anyone, even though you may not remember it now. You could have given away yourself and shown your true identity, which will lead the humans to begin to ask many questions." He turned to the other turtles and said, "for a while at least, I suggest that we do not go to the surface, in case there are repercussions following Michelangelo's adventure last night."

"But, Sensei, we promised to go to April's apartment this morning, to clean out her basement," Leo said as he remembered the task of that day.

Splinter thought this through for a moment, then nodded and said, "Do not break your promise, just do not venture too close to where the humans dwell, and stay inside Miss O'Neill's apartment at all times. But," he added, "Michelangelo will stay here with me. He will perform extra training, as a punishment for his actions last night."

"Training?" Mikey groaned, thinking that if it hurt his head to merely breathe, then a session of ninjitsu training would do nothing to help it.

"Yes, Michelangelo," Splinter said sternly. "Perhaps the pain in your head will remind you in future not to be quite so thoughtless and reckless with your actions. I think also, it will show you, all of you, that extreme consumption of alcohol results in disastrous consequences for us, which is why I have forbidden it before. Do you all understand?"

"Yes, Sensei," the turtles said, nodding in agreement.

* * *

"Hi, guys," April said as she let the turtles through into her apartment. "Thanks for coming, I really appreciate the help... hey, where's Mikey?" She suddenly asked, seeing that one turtle was missing.

The turtles threw each other looks of unease, unsure as to whether they should disclose the details of the previous night's events or not. Eventually, Donny decided that Mikey deserved the embarrassment following his actions, and in any case Mikey would most probably tell April when he next saw her. "Erh, it's a long story," Donny said finally, "we'll explain when we're doing your basement."

"A long story? Guys, what happened exactly?"

"Exactly?"

"Well..."

"Erm..."

"You see..."

"We don't actually know..."

* * *

"Come, Michelangelo, you must finish your breakfast before we begin training," Splinter said impatiently, tapping his furry foot on the ground as he waited. "You need your energy for the work you are about to do."

Michelangelo was only half listening. Along with the pounding headache, the information he had been told this morning weighed heavy on his mind. He could not believe that he had gone and done what his brothers had said he had last night. But then, his brothers _and _his Master would not lie about something that serious, and the symptoms of his hangover were certainly not lying. But he did not feel that it was in his character to go out on a whim and get drunk like that. In fact, he'd never really had the urge to do so.

He tried and tried to remember how he got drunk that night, but everything was a blur to him. He could not even remember leaving the lair. He claimed to his brothers that he couldn't remember anything, but there were a few moments had been implanted in his mind. One was the royal rebuke that Raphael had given him in the sewers when he had been found. Leonardo was wrong; Michelangelo did remember it. His thoughts were not altogether clear at that time, but he could definitely feel Raphael's anger. He felt it, but for some reason, he did not feel as though all of it was directed at him. Anger or not, Michelangelo knew that Raph was right; going out and getting drunk was a truly stupid thing to do. If only Mikey could remember actually doing it, and why!

Splinter too was wrong when he said that he would not remember the talking-to given to him by the rat – he remembered every word of it. They had been drummed into his head like the drumming that was taking place within his skull at that moment. He could also clearly recall the last thing he saw before he passed out, and that was the disappointment in his Master's eyes, and the way he could not even bear to look at his son. Mikey had never seen a negative emotion so clear and strong before, and wished he had blacked out before he had seen it in his Sensei's eyes.

Mikey shook his head, snapping himself out of the daze as he stared listlessly at his toast. The food was looking less and less appetising by the second, sitting limply on his plate as time took its toll. He had chewed on some of it, but it tasted like soggy cardboard to him. His stomach began to protest at the intake of the food and so he slowed eating to a stop, but unfortunately for him Splinter was, quite rightly so, not in the greatest of moods with his son, and was not standing for any nonsense that morning.

In reality, Splinter was slightly concerned by Michelangelo's lack of interest in the food. Mikey was renowned for being a walking, talking bottomless pit, eating anything within range. For him to sit there and barely touch the food was out of the ordinary, and Splinter wondered whether his son was well enough to train that day. But no, Splinter would not go back on his word. It was Mikey's own fault for drinking that previous evening, and therefore Mikey would suffer the consequences in the hope that he would learn for the future.

Mikey contemplated somehow getting rid of the food, perhaps hiding it beneath his plate and disposing of it as he washed up, or even throwing it towards the trash can in the corner. Unfortunately, Mikey knew that Nothing, and that was Nothing with a capital N, got past Splinter. It was like the rat had developed a sixth sense over the years; able to pick up on any occurrence, no matter how small or how discretely an action was done.

Eventually, Mikey forced the toast through his mouth and down his throat, ignoring the indignant, gurgling complaints from his stomach once he had finished. He wearily followed Master Splinter into the dojo, sensing that his Sensei would not stand for it if he complained of being ill. As he had been told, he had brought it all on himself, even if he could not remember actually doing so.

Once in the dojo, the lights flicked off and Mikey looked around sharply as was plunged into darkness. The dark was a small relief; the light was beginning to pain his eyes. Splinter walked over, holding a candle that provided the only light. Shadows flickered eerily over the rat's stern visage, and Mikey gulped.

"We will begin by addressing your awareness during battle," Splinter said, thankful that the training session was finally going to commence. In a way he was glad that Michelangelo was to receive extra training, as he had noticed that something had discouraged him in the session that previous evening. Perhaps the punishment could be put to good use, to build his spirits.

Splinter continued, "you should be aware of presences around you, even if you cannot see them. In this darkness, I will try to attack you, and I want you to detect my presence in time to defend yourself adequately. Do you understand?"

Mikey nodded, and Splinter blew the candle out, leaving Mikey in pitch black. He stood, preparing himself for an attack as his Sensei crept away into the darkness. For five minutes Mikey stood, becoming more and more relaxed as time passed. He folded his arms, still holding his nunchucks, and tapped his foot impatiently. "Come on, Sensei, anytime to–" he called out before he was cut off by the familiar walking stick making contact with the back of his shell with great force, knocking him to the ground.

As Mikey struggled to get back up, Splinter appeared out of the shadows. "Never let your guard down for a moment, Michelangelo; your enemy will take great advantage if you do."

Mikey nodded grimly, knowing that he had already managed to displease his Master, even on the first practice of the session. Something told him that it was going to be a long day.

* * *

"So, you're saying that Mikey just randomly went out last night and got drunk?" April asked in disbelief. She'd heard the whole story, told mostly by Leo with the other two chipping in occasionally. Well, Don chipped in with parts, whilst Raph made cutting remarks about Mikey and his actions.

"It sure looks that way," Leo said dubiously. He had seen the proof last night, as Mikey was definitely drunk, but he was not altogether sure about the entire thing. It was not Mikey's style to go for such an extreme escape, as he had so many other 'clean' ways to have fun, like watching the TV and playing his computer games, and he did not need drink. It all seemed too weird for his liking, but until his brother remembered anything, the puzzle could not be pieced together.

That's not the Mikey I know, April thought to herself. "But why?"

"We don't know, he couldn't remember anything after he went to bed last night," Donny explained.

"He wasn't acting like himself," Leo murmured quietly. "He just went straight to his room after training."

Raphael sat on a cardboard box with his arms folded, saying nothing. He was still angry with himself for not apologising to Mikey before he went out and did something stupid. If he hadn't been so stubborn, he could have possibly prevented the entire business, but he did not share this with the others, for fear of being right. It was partially his fault, but still he had yelled at his brother in the sewers. The angry words were still ringing in his ears as he replayed the scene over and over in his mind.

"Are you sure he was drunk? Just because he looked like it, doesn't mean he did it? I mean he can't remember doing it," April stammered, unable to believe that Mikey would really go out to get drunk beyond recognition, as she had been told.

"All the signs were there, April," Donny said, shaking his head. "He couldn't stand up straight, he was slurring, and he didn't know what he was doing when we took him home. This morning, he woke up with a splitting headache and generally feeling way under the weather – the classic hangover."

"You said that he took a knock to the head, couldn't they have caused all of that? Like a concussion of some sort?"

"We would have heard Mikey complaining no end if the blow had been powerful enough to cause slurred speech and lack of co-ordination," Donny explained to her. "He didn't complain of any kind of pain last night, meaning that the drink had numbed any kind of pain caused by that wound. Plus, he reeked of the stuff."

"Jeez," April murmured to herself. "I wonder what made him do it. I mean, he's never made any kind of indication of doing something like that before, has he?"

"They all gotta start somewhere," Raph muttered darkly. "Today, an alcoholic. Tomorrow, a junkie."

"Oh, come on Raphael, that is just dumb. Have you lost it? Mikey won't reach the stage of being an alcoholic, let alone beyond," Leo said firmly, rolling his eyes at the wild suggestion. He silently added, _not if I have anything to do with it_. "All he did was, uh, experiment, and now he knows the outcome he won't go back for a second round."

"You hope," Raphael muttered. He paused for a moment and continued, "We've all seen it before, you know. We live in New York, it happens all the time. Kids go out for a drink because they think its cool, and they like what it does to them so they go back for more, just to get that high."

"We're not exactly normal New York citizens, in case you haven't noticed," Leonardo snapped. "He might have problems hooking up with dealers, don't you think?"

"He apparently managed to get his hands on some booze last night, so there's ways he'd get drugs," Raphael argued.

"Raph, it won't come to that," Leo said firmly.

"Considering that Mikey can't even remember what happened last night, and what he felt like this morning, do you really think that he'll want to go back for more?"

"I'm just saying it's a consideration," Raph said. "Just watch out for him, is all."

"Fine," Leo said, declaring the subject closed. The whole affair had been bugging him from the start, from the mood that Mikey had been in the previous evening, sullen and morose. Leo suspected that he may have gone out to drown his sorrows, but he hated to believe it. He cursed himself for not talking to Mikey that evening when Raphael did not, and maybe giving him the encouragement he needed.

"Guys, everyone has to learn," April told them. "Mikey just did it his own way, by going out and trying it. It doesn't mean he'll go and do it again and again like that."

"April's right," Donny said. "You know Mikey, he has to see it or experience for himself to believe it. Let's just hope he's learnt the lesson and let life carry on as usual, agreed?"

"Agreed," Leo said firmly, before turning his glaring eyes to Raphael.

Raph sighed and rolled his own eyes. "Agreed," he said reluctantly, his voice forced.

* * *

"Again," Splinter commanded shortly, before disappearing into the dark shadows to plan his attack.

Mikey straightened up quickly and drew his nunchucks from his belt, determined not to be beaten again. He had performed the exercise six or seven times, and so far he had failed each practice. This time, he thought to himself with gritted teeth, he would not mess up. He became ready, turning occasionally to face different areas, eyes dancing around the darkness to try and spot anything that could have been a probable attack.

He sensed something behind him, and quickly turned, ready to defend. He only had a split second to register the stick travelling towards him at a frightening speed before it struck him, this time on the head.

Mikey staggered backwards at the force, unable to keep his balance. He tumbled to the ground, the world around him still moving even after he lay still. He closed his eyes tightly to relieve the pain, when suddenly they snapped open and he saw once-blurry images sharpen before him.

_He was running along the city rooftops, bounding and bouncing from building to building. It was pitch dark, with the moon providing the only light. It had started to rain, hard. His bandana ties were soaking and stuck to the back of his head, and he could barely seen ten feet in front of him._

"_Got to do this, got to train, got to get better," said the same voice reverberating through his mind._

"Michelangelo," Splinter said with concern, switching on the lights and hurrying over. He knelt by his son.

Mikey shook his head, snapping himself out of his memory. He remembered now why he went out that previous evening. He went out secretly to train, to try and improve some of his skills. He blinked again, trying to relieve the dizziness.

"I'm okay," Mikey said in a gruff tone that did not suit him at all, a tone that struck his Sensei like he had struck his son a moment ago. Mikey struggled to his feet and stood, albeit unsteadily, awaiting Splinter to attack him again.

Splinter sighed and said, "we will resume training later."

Mikey shook his head, more vigorously this time. "No," he said firmly, "I'm fine. I'll do this."

Splinter was at a loss. It had come to the point where the Master was not sure whether his son was fit to fight. Splinter was stubborn and he wanted to see that Mikey learned from his punishment, but at the same time he did not want to endanger the health of his son. Unsure of what to do, he decided that if Mikey said he was able enough to fight, then he would continue the session. "Fine, we will continue. We will work on your balance during battle."

Mikey nodded, and drew his nunchucks as Splinter readied himself with his cane. Splinter moved to attack Mikey first, and for a moment the two were engaged in intense fighting. Mikey did his best to ignore the blinding pain radiating through his skull. He gritted his teeth in an attempt to disregard his aching muscles. And he did what he could to forget about the burning sensation creeping up from his stomach to his chest. He narrowed his eyes and tried to focus on his battle, blocking out all other sensations. Yes, he thought to himself. It's going to be a very, very long day.

* * *


	5. Chapter Four

Note: Thanks again for all the kind reviews. Since there were so many (and I am dragging it out a little) you get two chapters this time. Hope you like them.

* * *

Chapter Four

* * *

"Who knew April had such a huge basement," Donny remarked as he and his brothers glided from rooftop to rooftop in the sunset sky. The task of clearing their friend's basement had taken an entire day, largely due to sorting through all the heavy boxes, and the events of the previous evening weighing heavier still on each brother's mind.

"And who knew she had so much junk to fill it with," Raph muttered, bounding behind his brothers. Suddenly he saw something out of the corner of his eye, and quickly skidded to a halt. He looked over the edge of the rooftop and spotted a pack of males in an alley below. "Hello, what have we here?" He murmured.

"Keep up, Raph," Leo commanded, noticing that his brother had fallen behind.

"Yeah, yeah," Raph called back absently, watching the group intently. There appeared to be a great amount of them, about nine or ten, all dressed in jeans and thick jackets. He listened hard, and could hear some kind of high-pitched whimpering, like that of a child. He jumped from the rooftop to a flight of stairs set lower down the building, where he got a better look. On closer inspection, Raphael caught sight of a young boy struggling against the men.

Raphael, without thinking or questioning for a moment about what he was doing, jumped down the flight of steps and landed gracefully behind the group of males. "A little outnumbered, ain't he?"

The men all turned around, and to Raphael's surprise, a few of them smiled wryly to themselves. They dropped the boy in the blink of an eye, turning their attention immediately to the new and strange arrival. The boy was stunned, and stared at his hero for a second before getting to his feet and running for all he was worth. Raph made sure the boy was out of sight before he growled, "any of you creeps gonna follow suit, or would you prefer to stick around for the party instead?"

The men all began to draw their weapons and adopted a ready stance, waiting for the strange figure to make his move.

Meanwhile, Leo noticed that Raphael was no longer with him and Donny. "Don, wait a minute," he said quickly, stopped and looking around for any signs of his brother. He hurried along the edges of the rooftops until he saw the crowd below, the one that Raphael was currently trying to battle.

Leo silently cursed before he jumped down towards the fight, with Donny not far behind. They instantly joined the fight, picking the men surrounding Raphael one by one before quickly disposing of them.

"Trouble always seems to find you, doesn't it, Raphael," Leo growled as he fought with two men, one using a staff as his weapon, the other a chain.

"These guys were playing with some kid here, and I couldn't resist joining in," Raphael growled back, irritated at being reprimanded by Leo when the cause of his fight was just. He had fended off a few of them, but as he was the one that started the fight, everybody wanted to fight him. "Jeez, one at a time, there's plenty to go around," he muttered, his sais dancing smartly in his hands as he attacked.

"In that case, you should have called us, you're always leaving us out of stuff," Donny called from where he fought, keeping two men at bay with his bo staff.

"I'll remember for next time," Raph yelled back, before he was closed in on. Three men surrounded Raphael as he fought. He took two of them out with a slightly unsteady split kick, but the third got the better of him as he struggled with his balance. The great, bulky man, with red-coloured hair, took his chance and struck Raphael over the head with a club.

Raphael fell awkwardly to the ground, groaning as he did. He grumbled as he tried to get to his feet, not quite sure what hit him. Behind him, a smaller man with a blonde moustache held a syringe, poised to inject the fluid into the turtle below him.

Leo saw what was happening out of the corner of his eye, and acted swiftly. He took one last swipe of his katana at the man he was fighting, before running fiercely, slamming his swords point-first into the floor and landing feet-first into the man with the syringe. The needle rolled away from the smaller man and came to a halt between two trashcans, where it lay out of sight.

"Let's get out of here," one of the men cried as he was knocked to the ground by Donatello's bo staff.

"But what about the subject?" another man shouted.

"It's not the same one," a third called out.

"Fine, we've got nothing to keep us here, let's go," the man who had dropped the needle commanded, before all the men scattered and ran out of the alley, much to the amazement of the other turtles.

Leo walked over to Raph, who was at that time struggling to get up from the ground. "You okay, Raph?"

"Yeh, I could have taken him," Raphael mumbled, his eyes saying thank you to his brother. Leo nodded, smiling ever-so-slightly at his brother's method of showing gratitude.

"Not after he'd injected you with this," Donny said, picking up the syringe from its concealed place. He studied it carefully for a moment, before placing it in his bag. "I'll take a look at what it's got in it when we get back. And that's after I clean up your head," he added, seeing the wound given to Raphael by the hulking man.

"Yeah, whatever," Raphael muttered, thinking to himself that his head hurt only a little, and that if Leo had not stepped in, things could have been a lot worse. That was not the main topic on his mind. "Who were those guys? What did they want with that kid? And what did they mean, talking about the subject?" Raph asked, looking at the evidence and thinking that it looked like a small few random puzzle pieces, without any links between them.

"The fluid in this needle might be able to answer some of those questions, when I find out exactly what it is," Donny said as he climbed into the manhole, following his brothers to the sewers below.

* * *

The three turtles were chatting excitedly to one another about one of the stories of April's father she had told them that day when they entered the lair. They found their Master sitting in the armchair, drinking a cup of steaming herbal tea.

"Good evening, my sons," he greeted, placing the cup on the table and standing before them. "I trust you are all hungry from your day working?"

"I'll make something," Leo offered, heading for the kitchen.

"Master Splinter, is Mikey in his room?" Raphael asked, having looked about the lair and not found him.

"Yes, Raphael, he is resting following his training today," Splinter said, nodding to Michelangelo's room. Raphael made a move to towards the room, but Donatello pulled him back.

"Hold still, Raphy, I'm going to try and clean your cut," Donny said, wiping it with a cloth soaked in antiseptic.

"Raphael, how did you injure your head?" Splinter asked, demanding an explanation.

"We saw a couple of guys giving a kid some trouble on the way home, and I guess they didn't want me to play," Raph said casually, grimacing at his stinging wound.

"They were going to inject Raph with some kind of fluid in a syringe, before Leo got to them," Donny said, giving further explanation. He paused, then added, "I think there's more to those guys than meets the eye, so I picked up the needle, to study it."

"What do you suspect, Donatello?" Splinter asked curiously.

"I won't be sure until I've studied the contents of that syringe," Donny said guardedly. At that time he had his suspicions, but he was not ready to share them until he had at least some kind of confirmation. He finished cleaning the cut and said, "There, finished."

"Thanks, Don," Raph said gratefully, before walking towards Mikey's room. He hesitated outside the door, and opted to knock first.

"Yeah?" Came the muffled grunt from inside.

"It's me, Raph," the red-banded turtle began. "Can I come in?"

"Sure, whatever."

Raphael quietly opened the door and stepped into the dark room. The only light in the room came from the crack beneath the door. Mikey was laid facing away from the door on the crumpled covers of his bed, staring at the ceiling. One arm was thrown slackly over his face, as though shielding his eyes from light that wasn't there.

Raphael picked his way through the mess of clutter upon the floor and perched at the foot of his brother's bed. He fumbled with a loose thread on Mikey's cover for a moment, before speaking. "I came to apologise," he began brusquely, immediately regretting the somewhat harsh tone.

"For what?" Mikey mumbled back, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling.

"Well," Raphael began through gritted teeth, not enjoying Mikey's moody attitude, "for ragging on you the night before last, in sewers. I shouldn't have said words like that to discourage you. You didn't need it." He paused, receiving no response from Mikey, and pressed on. "I feel, I don't know, I just feel like I'm responsible or something for, you going out last night."

"You are."

"I... what?" Raphael stalled, taken aback. He hadn't seen that one coming. "You... that means... am I really the cause of you going out and getting drunk last night?" As an afterthought, he added, "and I thought you said you couldn't remember anything."

Mikey sighed, and moved into a sitting position on his bed, looking at Raphael for the first time. "Listen, Raph. When I was training today, I hit my head."

"There's a lot of that going around," Raphael commented wryly.

"Dude, who gave you that? Did you drop something valuable at April's?" Mikey asked, studying the mark on his brother's head. Raphael shrugged, and Mikey continued. "Anyway, when I hit my head, something weird happened. There was, like, this flashback of last night. I remember running through the city, because I was pulling extra training."

"'Cause of me," Raphael murmured, looking toward the floor.

"Maybe, but I didn't go out into the city to get drunk, not because of you or anyone," Mikey explained hurriedly. "I just went out there to train. I haven't been able to figure out how I ended up doing getting plastered. I mean, I wasn't _that _annoyed or anything. I just got a little annoyed with myself because I messed up in the park, and I messed up in training last night."

"We all mess up sometimes, Mikey, you just need to put it behind you and get on with it," Raphael said positively. He chuckled to himself and added, "I guess you needed to hear that last night, before any of this happened."

"Maybe," Mikey shrugged, then grinned, "but then, if you had, I wouldn't have known what it's like to be drunk!"

Raphael laughed and asked, "so what did you think of it?"

Mikey thought about this for a moment, then sighed. "I don't remember a lot about being drunk, but I sure remember what I feel like now, afterwards."

Raphael frowned. "You still don't feel too hot?"

"Not really," Mikey said, shaking his head slightly. "My head really hurts, and I don't really feel all that hungry, and..."

"Whoa! We'd better call a specialist in for this one – Mikey doesn't feel hungry! Let's alert the media, too!" Raphael said flippantly.

Mikey punched his brother lightly in the shoulder. "Quit goofing around, Raph. Master Splinter said I should just sleep it off or something, but he says I should still eat. I didn't eat dinner last night, or a lot of lunch today."

"It's safe to eat today, Leo's cooking something right now," Raphael informed him. He stood up off the bed. "C'mon, it should be about done." Mikey stood up also, and followed his brother out of the room.

* * *


	6. Chapter Five

* * *

Chapter Five

* * *

The next morning, Raphael was up early, cooking breakfast. Following the sizzling noise and the smell of the cooking pancakes wafting towards his room, Donatello ambled sleepily into the kitchen area, yawning and stretching. "Good morning, Raph," he said groggily, sliding into a chair at the table.

Raph took a moment to study his brother's weary, hunched-over form before turning back to the task at hand. "What time did you get to bed last night, Don?" Raphael asked, flipping a pancake high into the air and deftly catching it in the pan.

"Morning," Donny corrected. With his elbow resting on the table and his head cradled in his palm, he yawned again. "I was up all night studying the contents of that syringe."

This quickly grabbed Raphael's attention. "Did you find anything out?"

Having anticipated the question, Donny explained, "I found out that it's some kind of drug, one that I've never seen before. My guess is that the substance has been either created or genetically modified by some company." He paused for a moment, unsure as to whether or not to disclose one certain piece of information. "There was a great amount of seriously intense, and chemically modified, alcohol in the contents of the syringe."

"Alcohol?" Raphael asked in surprise.

"Right. I'm keeping an open mind at the moment, I mean there were many other chemicals in there, and all of the fluid inside it was modified in some way. It's like nothing I've ever seen before."

"You'll figure it out, whatever it is; you always do," Raph said encouragingly, placing a plate of pancakes on the table.

As he speared a pancake on his plate, the now more-awake Donny realised that something was amiss and remarked, "You're in a good mood this morning, Raph. You're first up, you've made breakfast, and you're being generally nice – what's it all in aid of?"

"I guess I'm just in a good mood," Raph said with a shrug.

"It's amazing what apologising to your brother can do to you, isn't it?" Donny persisted, grinning.

"Don't push your luck," Raphael growled, but as he turned away to reach the jug of pancake batter, he was grinning as well.

Leonardo strolled out of his room at that moment, looking a lot fresher than Donatello had when he'd emerged. Heading towards the kitchen table, he greeted his brothers. "Morning, guys," he said, sniffing appreciatively at the aroma of Raphael's pancakes. He sat down and was represented with a plate. As he took a bite out of the food he asked, with his mouth full, "Mikey up yet?"

"Not yet," Raphael said, preparing another plate of pancakes.

"I'll go get him," Donny volunteered, having finished his first helping of pancakes. He was somewhat surprised that the smell of cooking breakfast had not roused his brother, but he did not openly comment upon it. Instead he added, "he'll go crazy if he's misses out on his breakfast."

Watching Donny walk to Mikey's room, Leo voiced Donny's thoughts. "Master Splinter must have made him work hard yesterday; it's not like him to continue to sleep once breakfast is done."

Donny knocked on the door to his brother's room, and waited for a moment for the reply that didn't come. "Mike? You awake?" He called, before opening the door a crack. To his relief he found Mikey still fast asleep in his bed.

"Rise and shine, bro," Donny said loudly, walking into his brother's messy bedroom. Mikey had evidently kicked the cover to the floor at some point in the night, and Donatello picked it up and folded it as he tried to awaken his brother. He stopped, seeing that Mikey had not so much as twitched at his voice or presence. "Mikey?" He asked, dropped the cover on the end of the bed and advancing towards him. He shook Mikey's shoulder slightly, and received only a murmur for his efforts.

Donatello tentatively placed a hand to his brother's forehead, and cursed at the heat radiating off of it. "Jesus," he mumbled, snatching his hand back. In a split second, questions and thoughts ran through his mind. What caused the fever? When did he develop it? Is it an infection, and is that infection bacterial or viral? And how closely linked is it with the fact that not too long ago he consumed a large amount of alcohol?

He knew that the answers to those questions would have to wait. "Leo, there's something wrong with Mikey," he called loudly, trying to conceal the alarm in his voice.

"He ain't waking up?" Raphael questioned. "Surely he can't _still _have a hangover?"

Donny swallowed and said, "I think it's something more serious than a hangover."

There was just enough panic in Donny's voice to let Leonardo know that something was not right. He stepped away from the table and walked at a smart pace towards Mikey's room. Raphael too picked up on the hint of anxiety in his brother's voice, and followed Leonardo.

Donatello took charge of the situation for the time being. "Raphael, I want you to go to the cabinet in the bathroom and find the thermometer, then go and get a cloth, run it under the cold tap and bring it back here. Leo, go and tell Master Splinter that Mikey's got a fever."

Raphael was already gone and Leonardo was halfway out of the door when Donny looked up from Mikey to finish delivering his commands. Quickly he had found a thinner cover from under the bed and had placed it over his brother, to retain some heat and avoid any sudden change in temperature.

Raphael returned with the thermometer moments later and hung around long enough to ask, "what's wrong with him?"

Placing the thermometer in his brother's mouth, Donny said, "at the moment, he's got what I suspect to be a moderate fever, but I'm not sure what sort of illness he has."

"Do you reckon he had some sort of bad reaction to the booze or something?" Raphael persisted.

"I doubt that; if that was the case it would have kicked in beforehand," Donny explained. "I'm not ruling out the possibility that it is related to what happened the other night, though. Let's just all keep an open mind; there's the great possibility that he caught an infection from someone when he went topside that night, which would be nothing to do with the alcohol."

"Right," Raphael said shortly. "I'll go get that cold cloth thing now," he said, hastening out of Mikey's room in the direction of the bathroom.

Almost as soon as Raph had walked out, both Leonardo and Splinter hurried into Mikey's room. "Donatello," Splinter said in an ever-so-slightly agitated tone, "your brother informs me that Michelangelo is unwell."

"Yes, Sensei," Donny said, standing to allow his Master to kneel by Mikey.

Splinter studied him for a second, pressing his furry hand to Mikey's forehead as Donny had done some moments ago. After a moment, he spoke, "I fear that we are no longer dealing with a mere hangover," Splinter said gravely. He studied his son, regretting putting him through the intense training the previous day. He wished he'd have waited until Michelangelo had fully recovered from his alcohol consumption before he carried out the punishment.

"I'll take some blood samples to try and find out what we're dealing with," Donny said quietly, leaving the room to fetch the required medical equipment. He took that moment alone to process his thoughts. He had a feeling that the simple fact of the alcohol consumption did not cause such an adverse effect. He suspected that the gang of men with the syringe the three turtles met yesterday had something to do with Mikey's current fever, but he wasn't able to prove it. Not yet, anyway.

As Splinter knelt by Mikey, Raphael returned with a bowl of cool water and a cloth. "Here you are, Sensei," he said, offering them to him.

"Thank you, Raphael," Splinter spoke gently as moistened the towel and placed it on Mikey's forehead. Mikey squirmed a little under the cool sensation, but he quickly settled, some of the frowning muscles around his eyes relaxing slightly. "Rest, my son," Splinter said softly, tucking the cover around Michelangelo.

* * *

Donny was quickly in and out of Mikey's room, not wasting a moment before returning to his domain to analyse the blood he had drawn from his brother. He knew how meaningful wasted seconds could be between life and death.

Splinter had excused the turtles from training that day, but Leonardo still performed two hours of martial arts exercise that morning anyway. It kept both his mind and body occupied, as Splinter understood, and so allowed his son to continue.

Raphael, on the other hand, left Mikey's room only to refill the bowl of cool water. He was not known for showing compassion, but he showed some that day, by remaining almost constantly at his brother's side. Donny had tried to convince him that Mikey only had a moderate fever, and that it would not be long before he figured out what was wrong with him, but though Raph nodded, he decided to stay anyway, "just to make sure." He sat at his brother's bedside as he slept, keeping a watchful eye over him.

After an hour or two of reading through some of Mikey's music magazines, (having decided to pass on reading through his brother's collection of comic books,) Raphael stood up to stretch his legs. Mikey's room was fairly small, so when taking into account the junk that was strewn across the floor, there was not a whole lot of room for Raphael to walk around in, but he tried anyway.

Under a large pile of papers he found his brother's desk. He took a moment to actually study the papers, and he then realised what they were. He smiled to himself. "Hey, Mike, anyone ever tell you that these drawings are really good?"

Raph had found some of Mikey's sketches, a few in pencil, others in charcoal. One particularly striking one was of the New York skyline at night, done on black paper with white chalk. Despite receiving no response the first time, he continued anyway. "You do good work," he said approvingly. "How come you never showed any of these to anyone?"

Even though he was having a very one-sided conversation, talking to Mikey felt good, and, he reasoned with himself, it passed the time. He sat back in the chair and continued. "I apologised for one thing last night, but you never know, maybe in the not-too-distant future I might be apologising again. He won't admit it yet, not until he has proof or something, but Don thinks there was more to you getting drunk than meets the eye. And frankly, so do I.

"Remember we told you last night, at dinner, about those guys who we fought in the alley. He said something about 'not the right subject' or something. If it wasn't me, Leo and Don that they were looking for, then there are some pretty high odds that they were talking about you."

Mikey lay on the outside of consciousness, trying desperately to focus and listen to his brother's soft words. He heard him talk about his sketches, and compliment them. '_I must be dreaming_,' he thought to himself. He tried to concentrate on Raphael's ramblings, and suddenly he heard the word 'subject.' All of a sudden his body shook and his eyes snapped open, and the sudden movement made Raph jump.

"Mikey?" He said, standing up with a start.

Mikey could not hear him or see anything, despite his eyes being open. He was plunged into the fairly familiar numbness, where all he could see were the somewhat distorted images that he had seen once before.

_He climbed down the railings into the dark alley below. It was quiet, but Mikey's ninja senses detected something. He did not even have time to pull out his nunchucks before he was struck over the head, hard, with the baseball bat. He saw a blond man, grinning wickedly beneath his moustache._

"He had a moustache," Mikey murmured. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling and his whole body had tensed. Only his lips moved as he spoke.

"What?" Panicking, Raphael hastened to the door and yelled out, "Donny, get in here now!"

Mikey didn't hear; he tried to focus on the images, desperately wanting to be able to pick out any details that might be relevant. He felt like he was swimming in a thick, black molasses, desperately trying to search for the light to show him the way out. At that moment, he watched as another image was played through his mind.

_The moustached-man was leering at him, leaning over him. As well as the one in his eye, there was a glint of an object in his hand. A syringe._

Suddenly darkness flooded into Mikey's vision once more, but he felt the colossal weight from his chest lift as he began to return to a conscious state. He relaxed his entire body, and his breathing slowed and returned to a normal pace. Mikey's first conscious thought was that he felt something odd on his head, so he put his hand up and felt the cloth there. He removed it, wiped the remaining droplets away with the back of his arm. Mikey gradually opened his eyes and turned to look at Raphael, who looked deeply concerned for his brother. "Mikey, are you okay? You looked like you were possessed or something!"

Donny quickly burst into the room, looking at Raphael for an explanation. Raphael could only shrug helplessly as he watched Mikey.

"I'm okay," Mikey said quietly, looking up at both his brothers. As an afterthought, he added, "kinda hot, though."

"You've got a fever," Raph explained bluntly. He took the cloth from his brother, soaked it in the bowl and placed it back on his brother's forehead. "Leave the cloth there, it will help."

Mikey nodded, feeling the comfort from the cool rag. In his already slightly delirious state, he finally realised that he was not well. He did not let on that to his brothers. "Hey, Doc Donatello, have you figured out what's wrong with me? Or did I randomly go out for drinks again last night and forget about it this morning?" Mikey asked, shifting uncomfortably under the sheet.

Donny smiled at his brother's intact humour and said, "No, unless you were quiet about it, which isn't one of your usual character traits," he ignored the half-hearted glare from Mikey, "you didn't go out drinking last night." Donny hesitated a moment, before he said, "Just rest easy, okay?"

"Whatever you say, Don," Mikey said sleepily, rolling over and slipping into a restless slumber.

Both brothers watched for a moment as Mikey slept almost peacefully, before Raph pulled one of Donny's arms and yanked him outside their brother's room. In his usual style, he got straight to the point. "Okay, Donatello, I've seen that look before. What aren't you telling Mikey about his illness that you're about to tell me?"

Donny sighed, wishing he wasn't so easy to read. He knew that the others would have to know sooner or later, but he wished that he didn't have make them understand, or better yet, he wished he wasn't the one that had made the discovery in the first place. It was at times like these that he cursed his intellect. "You want the good news or the bad news?"

"Both, now." Raph was not in the mood for messing around.

"The good news is that I've managed to figure out what's wrong with Mikey. The bad news is, I don't know how to cure it at the moment." If ever, he silently added

Raphael did not like where this was going. "So what's he got? Some kind of infection? A virus?"

Donny swallowed. "Right now, he's slowly being poisoned."

* * *


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

* * *

It was the most difficult conversation that Donatello had ever experienced. He did not enjoy a great amount of talking anyway, but this was a particularly unpleasant encounter. He had to try and explain Michelangelo's condition to the rest of his concerned family, trying to pretend that there was hope when, in fact, there was little. He was trying to make them understand something that even he did not fully understand. He had a brilliant mind and a good comprehension of genetically modified chemicals, but it was hard to grasp this particular substance without knowing what he was dealing with. And that was without the mention of a possible cure.

Donatello would try anything to help his brother, but at that time he was worn out from his constant tests and research. So he decided to pool his ideas, and take some of the pressure off of his shoulders. He told them as much as he knew, trying to subtly sugarcoat the raw news as best he could.

What he knew so far was this: Somehow, an unknown drug had been introduced into Mikey's system. He had been given time to attempt to diagnose his brother, and that was when he noticed the mark on his arm. _Really _noticed it, that is. At first, one and all had assumed that it was a scrape that he had got when he was on his "drunken rampage" as Raph had fondly come to call it. But Donny had studied it more closely. In the centre of the bruise was a pinprick, one that was most probably caused by someone injecting something into Mikey.

Taking into account his brother's delirious ramblings, both Donny and Raph had made the connection that the gang that they had fought in the alley en route back from April's house had been the same group of people that Mikey had seemingly encountered on his own night out. This meant that whatever Mikey had been injected with was probably the same thing that the gang had tried to inject into Raphael, and thus the same thing that was in the syringe. But, due to the mix of modified chemicals, Donatello was having a difficult time distinguishing exactly what it was that was in the syringe.

Many questions remained unanswered, but three particular questions remained in the minds of all three turtles and one rat present at the mini-assembly. Were the men in the alley who had tried to inject Raphael definitely the same people that had injected Mikey with the unknown substance? If so, why did they do this? And was there some sort of antidote to cure him with?

"I don't think these guys were playing with their first chemistry sets; judging by the complexity of the chemicals I think they know what they are doing," Donny said. "And if they know what they are doing, then there is a high chance that they have created an antigen of some kind."

"All right, so if these scientist guys are so legit as you think they are, why do they have to pick random subjects and knock them out to test their formula?" Raphael asked rhetorically.

"I didn't say they were legit, not by any means," Donny argued. "All I'm saying is that they know what they're doing, and if they really know what they're doing then they'll have an antidote to whatever this stuff is."

"I think," Splinter began, speaking for the first time since Donny had called the meeting, "that these scientists, as you call them, met the three of you in the same alley as they had found Michelangelo the previous evening. I believe they were waiting to see if he would return, and they realised when you all returned that Michelangelo was not present among you."

"But Master, do you think they would be able to tell us apart?" Leonardo asked. With the exception of their uniquely coloured bands and their exclusive weapons, there was little to distinguish between the four turtles until one became acquainted with their different characteristics, voice tones and so on. Was it possible that they knew exactly what to look for?

"Maybe," Splinter said quietly.

"Look, none of this is getting us any closer to finding the creeps that did this to Mikey," Raphael said, having built up to such an outburst throughout Donatello's lengthy explanation of events. He felt that there was too much talking and not enough action taking place at that moment.

"Is there any way we can find these guys?" Leonardo asked.

"There may be, which is why I've brought in an expert to help us," Donny told them with the ghost of a grin playing across his face.

As if on cue, a female voice rung through the lair. "Hello? Anyone home?" Those present in the room smiled simultaneously as they recognised April's voice.

"Miss O'Neill, a most pleasant surprise," Splinter said, looking pointedly at Donny as April walked through into the living area.

"Thank you, Master Splinter," April said, walking through into the vast room. "Donny called me, saying that he needed my help." She paused, and asked, "How's Mikey doing?"

"He's not doing too great, I'm afraid," Leo said as he began to make a cup of coffee for April.

"Poor guy," April said quietly. "How can I help? I mean, I'm no doctor, you guys know that, right?"

Donny led April to his workbench, where he was about to resume looking through a heavy textbook, hoping for answers. "I know that, but I also know that you are a wizard with computers." He explained further, "we've come to the conclusion that Mikey has been injected with some sort of substance that is toxic to his body. If possible, we need you to find out who that company might possibly be. I know, it's like looking for a needle in a haystack, but..."

"Have you looked at the syringe yet?" April cut in, having picked up the syringe and studied it for a moment.

"Not yet, I took the fluid out of it and left it over there somewhere," Donny said, absently looking through the notes he had made from the various textbooks.

After a moment of looking at it, "It's got some initials on it. A-M-I," April spelled out.

For a moment no one said anything, as Splinter, Leo and Raph turned to face Donny from their seats in the living area, and gave him sour looks. Donny shrugged his shoulders and tried to defend himself. "Well, who knew they'd be dumb enough to leave their initials on the syringe?"

"They were dumb enough to drop it in the first place, weren't they?" Raph said back, walking over to Donny's workstation to join the conversation.

"April, would you be able to find out any information about whatever AMI is on my computer?" Donny asked, quickly changing the subject.

"I can do better than that, I'll go back to my place and look on my own computer," April said, knowing that her computer was newer and faster, and would be able to search more efficiently than the one in the lair. "I'll call you guys if I find any information. Is there anything else you'd like me to do?"

"That alone will be enough help," Leo said gratefully. They showed April out of the lair, and turned their attention back to the unanswered questions.

"Whatever April turns up should tell help us to figure out who did it, and then we can figure out why they did it and get the antigen," Donny said, hoping that April would discover something on her search.

"Hey, Einstein, I know you scientists like your answers and such, but let me sort your priorities out for you – the antigen comes first," Raphael growled, thinking that questions could wait, and Mikey might not be able to. Mikey comes first, he added to himself.

"Of course," Donny said defensively, hurt at the implication that he cared more about answers than he did his brother. "It wasn't a particular order or anything!"

"All right," Leonardo said, stepping in before any proverbial volcanoes could erupt. "We know what we need to find out. We wait for April to research – Donny, keep studying whatever that stuff is – and whilst we wait, we keep Mikey as comfortable as possible. Got it?"

"Got it," replied the other two, one curtly and the other more softly.

* * *

April picked up her pad of notes and read through them one last time before making the call to the turtles. Satisfied, she picked up the piece of equipment that Donny had given her, and studied it for a moment, wondering how to switch it on. She pressed one of the numerous buttons on the side, and suddenly the device came to life. She let it drop to the table, light flashing and noises emitting from it as the shell opened.

"Maybe I should have asked Donny for some instructions or something," April murmured, watching the Shell-Cell curiously.

At that moment, a voice sounded from the machine. "April? Are you there?"

April picked up the gadget gingerly, and spoke into it as though it were a telephone receiver. "Donny? I'm here."

"Whoa, no need to shout," Donny exclaimed.

April decided that the appliance resembled a two-way radio rather than a telephone, so held it in front of her mouth and spoke. "Sorry," she chuckled, "I'll get the idea of this thing in a minute."

"No problem. What did you find out?" Donny asked, knowing that, for Mikey, time was of the greatest essence and he needed to get straight to the point. He had checked on his brother a few moments before receiving April's call, and he appeared to be faring worse than before.

"A lot," April said, preparing to begin reading from the sheet of notes she had taken. "All right, are you ready for this?" She paused a moment, taking a moment to figure out where to begin. "AMI stands for Astor Medical Industries, a business that creates and tests drugs that psychologically manipulate the brain. I know that all drugs do this one way or another – they play with the mind – but this company wants to go deeper than that. Some of the drugs have even been known to enhance the mind, but don't ask me how. I couldn't find out a lot about it, apparently they haven't released a lot of details to the press since one particular incident."

"Incident?" Donny asked, intrigued.

"The company had a recent revamp after almost being shut down a number of years ago. I had to dig deep to find out why, but I discovered that allegations were made about the legitimacy of their testing. It was discovered that they picked homeless people off the streets, including a lot of kids, to test their products on. That way, if one of the tests was a failure, the death couldn't be traced back to anyone and they could bury the evidence of any fatalities during testing – literally."

"Those creeps," Donatello said coldly. Leo and Raphael, who could only catch Donatello's end of the conversation, looked at each other in disbelief, thinking to themselves that if the information that April had given their brother was enough to get _him _rattled, the something pretty big had to be going down.

"There were also rumours that although they were public about some of their testing, they also did some unofficial testing, on the side, as it were. These would probably be experiments that the public would have been against taking place."

"Makes sense," Donatello agreed.

The phone call ended with April giving Donny the address of the AMI company, and agreeing to meet the turtles there in half an hour. Upon ending the call, Donny turned to his brothers and his Master and explained what he had been told.

"The company makes drugs that basically mess with people's minds," Donny explained. "From what we've discovered today, it looks more and more like Mikey was drugged by these guys, as a test subject for whatever was in that syringe."

"Jeez, when I get my hands on those wanna-be scientists..." Raph growled, clenching his fists in anger.

"Easy, Raphael," Leo said in a warning tone, laying a calming hand on his brother's tense shoulder. "You said it yourself - the first thing we're going to do is get a cure for whatever Mikey's got, then everything else can be taken care of afterwards. Got it?"

"Fine, fine," Raphael relented, remembering the lecture he had given to Donatello earlier. For this, he shot the purple-banded brother an apologetic look, and said, "We cure Mikey, _then _we pulverize those creep scientists."

* * *

Soon Donatello, Leonardo and Raphael were speeding along the streets of the city towards their destination. They met up with April just around the block from the building and walked through the dark alley together towards the company base. From the outside, it looked like a typical concrete cube with the odd broken windowpane in downtown New York.

The three turtles deftly climbed up onto the roof of the relatively small building, helping April as they went. "I was never trained to do this," she reminded them through gritted teeth as she slowly scaled the rope that Donny had thrown from the ground to the roof. Once all four were safely on the roof, they began to look for a way in. Donny quickly located a vent on the roof.

"Seems too easy," Raphael said quietly as he slipped through the gap.

"I guess they didn't count on having company," Leonardo responded as he surveyed the interior of the building.

The corridor was dirty white in colour, with greying tiles covering the lower half of the walls. It was poorly lit; some of the few working bulbs in the strip lighting flickered whilst others remain lifeless. The floor, a green-grey lino tile, was slippery and sticky underfoot in some places, as though liquids had been spilt and just left to dry.

"They definitely weren't expecting company if they didn't clean up first," April murmured, looking distastefully at the damp patch that she had just stepped in.

"I sure hope they aren't carrying out serious experiments in these conditions," Donatello said. "It's far too unsanitary."

"Yeah, I know what you mean, even Mikey's room is cleaner than this place," Raph said, forcing the joke.

The four walked along the corridor in stiff silence, their thoughts on Mikey and his current poor state of health. Motivated by thoughts to do anything within their power to help him, they powered on, and soon came to a crossroads in the corridor.

"Here's what we'll do," Leonardo began, taking charge. "It may look like a small place, but we'll split into two groups. Donny, you go with April, and Raph can come with me. Find out whatever you can, and we'll meet back on the roof in an hour, if we don't meet up before that. Got it?"

"Got it," the three replied.

* * *

Donatello and April walked quietly down the passage, careful not to draw any attention to their presence to anyone who might be in the building. They looked through the windows of every door they passed, but saw what looked like to be disused labs. They came to a flight of steps, and crept up them, Donatello moving ahead of April so as to check for signs of trouble.

"What exactly are we looking for?" April whispered, her back flat against the wall as she moved behind the turtle.

"I'm not sure, April, but we'll know when we find it," Donny replied in a hushed voice. "So far, this place seems totally deserted, apart from ourselves. But, the fact that there are lights on in some of the corridors has to indicate that at least someone is in here somewhere."

They passed two empty rooms on the next floor, but found that the third laboratory was occupied. Donatello, who was leading the way, peered through the window first. The moment he saw movement from inside, he stopped and quickly turned around to April, placing a green finger to his lips. April nodded, understanding, and quietly ducked under the window and looked in through the other side.

Through the wired glass they could see three scientists, in dirty white laboratory coats and jeans, poring over some liquids frothing in a beaker atop a Bunsen burner. Donatello struggled to hear what the three scientists were muttering.

"Y-56 testing... successful... all subjects reacted to... C-56... system."

Donatello grasped that they were conversing about one of their experiments, and tried to gather whether it had anything to do with his brother. He narrowed his eyes in concentration, listening harder.

"What of... not given C-56?"

"As we thought... unconscious... comatose... two fatalities so far..."

Donatello gulped on hearing the last part of the sentence.

"And the... the alley?"

"Some went out... found creatures... not the same... bug..."

"Bug?" April asked in a whisper.

"Probably thinks that's what we are, giant bugs or something," Donny replied in a faintly miffed tone. He looked back to see that one of the scientists was heading towards the door, so he grabbed a surprised April and headed back the way they came. He pulled her into one of the empty laboratories and waited until the man had walked past before sighing with relief.

"Well," Donny began, "now we know that these guys are _definitely _the same ones that fought us the alley before. I have a pretty good idea about the rest of what they said, but we'll find Leo and Raph and see what they found out before I explain it. Come on, let's go."

* * *

Raphael and Leonardo silently walked through the corridor of the building, before taking a flight of stairs down to the basement of the building. Down here, there were even less working lights in this shorter corridor than before, which the two turtles used to their advantage and found it better for moving through the shadows and not being seen.

They passed a couple of doors, and looked through the windows of each one. They were mainly storage rooms, some containing piles of dusty cardboard boxes, others with old and broken pieces of machinery. "Donny would have a field day down here," Raph muttered.

"Shh," Leonardo hissed, ignoring the look his brother shot at him. The last thing they needed was a fight, especially in a narrow corridor. Throughout the time that they had been prowling the building, Leonardo had been calculating their situation against that of the scientists, their most current foe. From what they had witnessed in the alley, none of the scientists were trained in any form of martial arts, which is where an advantage lay for the turtles. The only advantage. Who knew how many scientists were in the building, or if they had guards somewhere? And though the turtles knew the art of ninjitsu, the scientists could possess any kinds of shotguns, rifles, pistols... or perhaps modified chemical or scientific ray guns that they had been developing. This confirmed it – the _very _last thing the turtles needed was to be spotted by and battle with the occupants of the building.

At the end of the corridor was a metal door with no window for Leonardo or Raphael to peek through. As Leonardo assumed a ready stance in preparation for a possible fight, Raphael slowly opened the door, a sai in one hand.

Raphael stole a look around the door, and let out a low whistle at what he found inside. The large room contained rows of beds along walls on either side. Leonardo looked around the door, and counted ten beds in total. Along the back wall were cramped enclosures containing two of various different types of animals.

"What did we hit, Noah's Ark?" Raphael asked, still staring at the find.

One of the humans in the bed turned towards the door, and his eyes widened when he saw the two silhouettes in the doorway. It appeared that he had just woken up, and was too dazed to do anything else but gasp. The other humans in the beds also began to gaze in wonder at the two giant turtles that had entered the room.

"It's okay, we're not here to hurt you," Leonardo began as he and his brothers quickly replaced their weapons.

"There's two of you," one young boy murmured in confusion.

"The kid can count," Raphael muttered sarcastically, still taking in the scene before him. Each of the humans in the steel beds was hooked up to machines that bleeped and took readings of what he presumed to be their heart rates. "They teach you that down here?"

"You misunderstand," a male in his forties said, sitting up in bed. He had no shirt on, and the thin, itchy-looking blanket did not look as though it kept him very warm. "We heard them talking, they said they knew of only one of your... kind."

"Who are _they_?" Leonardo asked, sitting on the edge of an empty bed.

"The scientists, the ones who put us here," the man spoke. "We heard them talking, saying that they found a giant reptile that they injected with the Y-56, but we didn't really believe them, that is, not until you just showed up." He paused for a moment, as if studying them. "What are you, exactly?"

"We're mutated turtles," Leonardo explained. "We're here because we believe that our brother was injected with a fluid that is now poisoning him." He stopped, taking a real look at the occupants in the beds. Those in the beds on one side of the room, apart from looking very tired and somewhat dishevelled, did not look ill. There was the male that had done most of the talking, the boy that had boldly spoken up, a young woman in her twenties, a man who looked to be about seventy years old, and a teenage girl. Leonardo then looked at those on the other side of the room, the left side where he say on one of the beds. The people in the beds were all lying asleep, looking very pale, with beads of sweat dripping off of their bodies. Their covers had been kicked about, and some had fallen to the floor. The three in the beds, all between late teens and early thirties in age, looked far worse for wear than those opposite them. A nauseating feeling began to bubble deep within Leonardo's stomach.

Raphael, who had remained at the door, heard footsteps and suddenly spoke up. "Leo, someone's coming!"

In a split second, the two turtles dove under two of the beds on the right side of the room. Those in the beds tried to shield them by drooping their thin, grey blankets over the side of the bed facing the door, so as to help cover them.

The door slowly opened, and two masked eyes widened as they peeped around the door. "April!" Said the soft, hushed voice. "You won't believe what I just found!"

Donatello and April walked into the room, and the man in the bed smiled wryly. "Ahem, I think your friends found us first." Sheepishly, Leonardo and Raphael crawled out from under the beds.

* * *

Splinter knelt beside his son, who had been moved from his bedroom to the couch in the living room before the others had left. They felt that the air in the larger room would be cooler and that Mikey would be more comfortable. The rat placed the cloth back into the bowl of cool water, wrung it out, and gently pressed it to Mikey's burning forehead. The young turtle groaned in his sleep, fidgeting under his thin cover.

"Shh, my son," Splinter said quietly, wishing he could do more to ease Mikey's pain. It was every parent's instinct to do so, whether or not they are a blood-related parent.

Mikey heard the words of his Sensei, though they were muffled in his sleep. He tried desperately to cling to them, as they soothed him, and took his mind off of how hot he felt.

"Michelangelo," Splinter began after a moment, "I must apologise to you for how I reacted when you were brought home two nights ago. At the time I was most disappointed in you, but events have shown me that..."

At that moment, Mikey's eyes snapped open, and he was drenched into that familiar feeling of swimming in the dense, black molasses that he could never seem to easily find his was out of. Splinter was cut off in his apology, and stood up in alarm.

_Mikey was back in the alley again, the same alley where he had been attacked by the group of men. He was pinned down, and the man with the moustache had injected him with the contents of the syringe. He slowly regained consciousness, and began to lift his head and open his eyes._

"_He's waking up!" One man cried, seeing the turtle pry his eyelids open._

"_You didn't hit him hard enough!" The moustached-man snapped in fury._

"_We should have waited until we got him back to the lab before we injected him," another man snarled._

"_Come on, it's done now," the leader of the pack said, putting an end to it. "Let's get him back."_

_The group had not taken three steps between them before they heard a noise, and saw the silhouette of a man walking down the alley towards them. In sheer panic, they threw Mikey into a Dumpster, planning on coming back to collect him later, before scattering to hiding places. The turtle was plunged into darkness for a moment, before he saw the light breaking through again. He looked up, and in front of the light he saw a familiar face._

"_What the Hell?" Casey uttered, staring at Mikey in the Dumpster. Mikey looked up, but the light turned everything white and he could see nothing._

Mikey blinked a few times, and turned to see his Master staring at him in alarm. Sleepily, he murmured, "It's okay, Master Splinter," before settling back down and falling into another deep, restless sleep.

Splinter sighed, and replaced the cloth on his son's forehead. "Hang in there, Michelangelo," he said softly, hoping and praying that his other sons would soon return soon, bearing a remedy for Michelangelo's ailment.

As if on cue, Splinter heard the door open. He stood up and turned to the entrance to the lair, but his expression of warm greeting saved for his sons turned into a look of fear as he saw who had entered their home.

* * *


	8. Chapter Seven

Note: Thanks to Reinbeauchaser for the constructive criticism on this chapter, I made a few little changes, I hope it helps with those inconsistencies.

* * *

Chapter Seven

* * *

Once the formal introductions had been made, the three turtles and April listened to the man, called David, speak about what they knew of the scientists and their experiments.

"AMI do a lot of drug making and testing, some of it they tell the public about, and some they keep quiet," David explained. "The stuff they make public they keep on the ground floor and second floor, mainly they test medical drugs on rats and mice and stuff. We're the experiments they keep quiet, in this room. There are dogs, cats, birds and fish, and of course, us humans."

"But you must have gone missing from somewhere? Shouldn't people be looking for you?"

"Not us, brother," said Joe, a Negro man who was the eldest of the group. At first, Leonardo had assumed he was in his seventies, as he looked well worn, but he was actually only in his mid-sixties. His explanation enlightened them why. "They did what every mad scientist guy does in the movies. They took us off the streets, so no one would know we're missing."

"Been down that road before," Donatello murmured, remembering back to the escapade involving the homeless people and the garbage company.

"So, AMI pick us off the street, and are testing their new drug on us, Y-56. Two at a time, they give us the drug, put us into the room, and watch what we do. How we react to it, they said."

"What does the drug do?" Donny asked.

"Y-56 is one of their 'basement' drugs, the ones they don't want the public to know about. It is a social drug, designed to get a person drunk in mere minutes. I suppose the idea is that it saves time and money. Anyway, the drunk effect lasts for about six hours. When you want to stop being drunk, then you take a drug called C-56. Again, after a few minutes, you begin to sober up, without any symptoms of a hangover. It takes about half an hour to be totally sober again, and have the alcohol removed from your system. I guess they did it so you could drive home afterwards."

"What if you take Y-56, but don't get to take C-56 afterwards?" Raphael asked, feeling the need to move things along.

"If you don't take C-56 drug after six hours, then you start to get a sort of hangover – you have a headache and you feel nauseous. If you still haven't taken C-56 twenty-four hours after taking the Y-56 drug, then it starts to poison you. We were all given Y-56 the day after your brother was. Only they," he pointed to those in the beds on the opposite side of the room to him, "weren't given C-56 when we were. And they still haven't been given it. The moron scientists upstairs want to see how long they can live without it. All part of their testing and stuff. So far, two have died, and those three will too, probably within the next day or two."

"Our brother is in the same situation," Leonardo explained uneasily. "We think he was given the Y-56 drug, but not the cure for it. Or maybe he was given C-56, but it didn't work because we've been mutated, we just don't know. He can't remember hardly anything about what happened that evening."

"Yeah, that's one of the side-effects of not taking C-56, the person's memory comes back in bits and pieces, something those so-called scientists are trying to work on," David explained distastefully as he referred to the men that had brought him to where he was. "But you were right the first time – they didn't give him C-56. I was the first one to be brought in here, and when I was, the leader of the pack reported to the boss about your brother. He said the idiots had given your brother the drug on the spot, not knowing how long he would be knocked out for, but they had been interrupted in the alley and dumped him. The guy who found him seemed to know him, and took him somewhere."

"Yes, our friend Casey found him and brought him back to our lair," Donatello filled in.

"Now that we're all just about up to date here, we need to see about getting that C-56 thing to Mikey and the others," Raphael said, reminding one and all that time was ticking away for Michelangelo.

"Agreed," Leonardo said, getting down to business, before he thought of something. Hesitantly, he asked, "There will be more C-56, right? I mean, you said that they planned on seeing how long the others would last without it. Does that mean..."

"They have more," David assured them, watching as the three turtles and the human woman collectively sighed with relief. "They have a few more bottles of it. I've heard them say that once they have finished with our batch, as they call us, they'll dispose of us somewhere and find more subjects."

"You mean... they'll kill you?" April asked, speaking for the first time. He voice wavered slightly. "Guys, we can't let that happen," she urged.

"And we won't," Leonardo said firmly. "David, we may need your help and the others' help in this. Raph, you and I will fix it so that Donny and April can search for C-56." Leo turned to the test subjects and asked, "Can you give us any idea where the drug might be kept?"

"We've tried to break out a couple of times," David said. "Their security isn't great, but we've not exactly been treated well down here, and we're weak from it. You, though, would stand a better chance." He paused for a moment, as though trying to remember what he had seen from his ventures out of the basement. "The entire first floor is offices, admin, and so on," he told them. "You won't find anything worthwhile there, and believe me, we've looked."

"The next floor, usually locked, off limits, they take us for the tests there," Joe said. "We only been down one part of it, where they do the tests on us. We don't know what's down the other part, that part is guarded."

"One of the few places in the building that actually is," David added, before an afterthought came to him. "Mindy made it up to the next floor once – go ahead, Mind, tell them what you found."

The teenage girl, with jet-black hair streaked electric purple, faltered a moment. "Didn't get far," she said quietly, fiddling with her nose-ring. "Just, like, labs and stuff up there. Probably where they do real tests, not on us. Looked cleaner than here."

"We'll look up there too, if we don't find what we're looking for on the second floor," Donny said encouragingly.

"All right," Leonardo said, standing up from the bed. "Raph and I will go first, and once we've distracted them, Donny and April start searching – and make it fast, we don't have a lot of time. Once we've found C-56, we'll see about turning the scientists into the police and freeing you guys."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Free us? To go back on the streets? At least this joint got a bed," he said, patting the thin mattress he was sitting up on.

"Hey, you think your place is bad, you ain't seen _our_ home," Raphael called as he followed Leo down the hallway and towards the wing where the guards were.

* * *

Leonardo and Raphael stealthily climbed to the guarded floor, and sure enough, saw the armed guards patrolling the corridor as they peered around a corner. Leo pulled Raph back in order to quickly discuss a strategy.

"Okay, Raph, we want to avoid a fight if we possibly can, because that will mean less time to get the antigen back to Mikey," Leo said, speaking slowly and clearly so that his brother would understand fully. "I can see the control room from here; we can easily reach it. There's one guy in there. _Quietly,_ we'll deal with him, and then fix the cameras so that Donny and April have a clear path down there. Then we'll find a way to deal with the guards, and hope that Donny and April find the C-56 quickly."

"Good plan, Leo, well-thought through," Raph applauded with sarcasm. "One thing, though, _do not _patronise me in future, thank you." Leo rolled his eyes, and peeped around the corner again. The two waited until the guards were walking in the opposite direction before tiptoeing across the hall and into the control room.

They did not have time to sigh with relief yet. Still as quiet as mice, the two crept up behind the bored-looking individual sitting at a desk, observing the monitors. Raphael grabbed the man's hands whilst Leonardo spread duct-tape over the man's mouth. Finally he tied the man's hands, knees and ankles with the sticky, black tape, and left him in the corner whilst they fiddled with the security cameras via the computer.

"Don thinks of everything," Leonardo said, placing the roll of duct tape on the surface whilst he watched his brother try to master the computers before them.

"All right, April and Donny are good to go," Raphael said, having temporarily blocked the cameras. After a few minutes, the sight of a foot in the corner of one of the screens told Raphael that they were making their way through the corridors.

"At least they passed the guards," Raphael murmured, looking at a cluster of the monitors.

Something was amiss. "Hey, speaking of those guards, where'd they go?"

At that moment he sensed something, as did Leonardo, and turned around in time to see two armed guards appear in the doorway, ready to fight. In an ice-cold voice, one of the guards said, "We're right here."

Raphael glanced at his brother, who had his hands around his katana blades, and said, "Hey, Leo, just so you know, I didn't arrange this one."

"I believe you, Raph," Leo said back, not taking his eyes off of the two guards, waiting for one of the two sides to break the silence and begin the fight. Leonardo decided that they should get the fight over-with, before they could attract anymore unwanted attention. He lunged towards the two guards, blades poised to swipe.

* * *

Meanwhile, Donatello and April were in one of the rooms on the second floor. April was hacking into the company computer files, desperately trying to locate where C-56 was kept, whilst Donny rummaged through the metal, glass-door cupboards, searching for any signs of the antidote.

After a few minutes of tense silence, April cried, "I've got it!" She re-read through the file and elaborated, "The antigen is kept in vials in the next room, with labels reading XTL109. Come on, let's go!"

Poking his head out of the door to check for security first, Donny and April moved to the next room. They began searching through the cupboards, looking for the label with the serial number matching that found on the computer. Eventually, Donny found the right case of vials.

"Let's get back to the basement," Donny said as they rushed out of the laboratory.

On the way, they passed the security room, where Leonardo and Raphael were engaged in battle with the guards. More had showed up since the original two, and the turtles were beginning to struggle.

Donny saw that his brothers needed his assistance, and gave the case of vials to April. "Go back to the basement, quickly. Find out from David how much of C-56 to give to each of the guys on the left side of the room, and give them the shots of it. We'll be back as soon as we can."

April nodded, and hurried back down the corridor towards the stairs leading to the basement. In the meantime, Donatello pulled his bo staff from the hold on the back of his shell, and picked his way through the guards, already weakened from fighting with his brothers.

"Great timing, Don," Leonardo complimented, already feeling the pressure ease from a third turtle joining the fight.

"No trouble," Donny replied modestly, throwing aside a guard with his Bo.

In a far corner of the room, Raphael's Sais locked with one Asian guard's nunchucks. He had flinched when he had first seen the weapons, but now he was intent on detaching them from his opponent's hands as quickly as possible. He snarled, "Grr, Mikey don't know what he's missing."

* * *

As soon as Splinter saw that intruders had entered his home, he stood up and advanced towards them, trying to move as far away from where Michelangelo lay as possible. He had a pretty good idea that they were there for his son, if they were connected with the scientists. If they had started testing something on him, then the chances were they wanted to see some sort of results from that test.

"Unless you are here to cure my son, I suggest you leave now," Splinter said coldly. He knew that the gang would not leave without putting up a fight for the turtle, but it suggested that Splinter was unaware of this, and it would give the rat's foe the opportunity to underestimate him.

The members of the group were not shocked to see that the giant rat could talk, or in fact, that he had referred to the turtle as his 'son.' Clearly, they were indifferent people who had been exposed to a lot of bizarre happenings in their life, and were now desensitised to such things.

"I'm afraid we can't do that, old man," the leader of the gang said, paying no attention to the fact that Splinter was actually a rat. Dressed in a black t-shirt with ripped sleeves and jeans slashed at the knees, he took a step forward, towering over Splinter. Then, as if the rat had suddenly disappeared, he ignored him and turned to the men behind him. "Get the turtle," he commanded.

Thoroughly irritated now, Splinter rapidly lashed out with his walking stick, striking the leader's ankles with such force that he was knocked off his feet and landed on the ground with a loud thud.

In a second, chaos reigned in the lair. The gang momentarily forgot their search for Michelangelo, and charged at the rat that had knocked their leader down. They hit all at once, all clumsily bashing into each other, but Splinter ducked and rolled out of the way, escaping unscathed. He quickly manoeuvred himself so that he was between the thugs and his son. Almost immediately, the brutes scrambled to their feet and began some better-prepared and better-executed attacks on Splinter. Some used weapons, such as bats and chains, others opting to use only their fists.

As good a fighter as Splinter was, he struggled this time, as he was well outnumbered by the gang. He tried in vain to keep his foes away from the couch and away from his son. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement a little way behind him.

Mikey had awoken to the commotion, and looked up to investigate the source of the noise. His eyes widened when he saw the battle between humans and rat taking place in his living room. He squinted, trying to focus. Eight humans to one rat. He shook his head, determined to try and even out the odds.

Unsteadily he stood up, struggling for a moment. He instinctively reached to his belt for his nunchucks, but was dismayed to find that they had at some point been removed. He quickly glanced around the area for them, hoping to find them in close proximity, but no such luck. _Boy, does my head hurt..._

He took a moment to compose himself, before moving towards the group, where Splinter was getting into difficulties fighting the brutes. One of the males looked up to see the turtle walking shakily towards them, and sneered. He moved away from the rat and proceeded to Michelangelo, holding his club tightly in his hand. Mikey took up a stance, ready to fight.

It was at that moment that Splinter noticed his son was awake and had moved away from the couch. He watched helplessly as one of the gang aimed his club at his ailing son and struck. Mikey attempted to block the hit, but in his state could do little more than dodge away and put his arm up in defence.

Sensing that defence was not working, Michelangelo decided to try and attack instead. He ducked down to the floor and executed a weak sweeping kick at the man's ankles. He caught them, but could do little more than make the man stagger back slightly.

Mikey struggled to stand up, but need not have bothered when he found he swiftly had to roll out of the way to avoid another attack, this time from a second man, carrying a heavy, rust-coated chain. The turtle came to a halt on his shell, groaning for a moment on the ground as the fire roared in his gut. He prised his eyes open and looked to the side in time to see his Sensei struck to the ground. The turtle strained to keep his eyes open and to stay conscious. Muffled, he could hear the deep voices of the scientists hastily make plans.

"Should we get the rat too?"

"Don't bother, we have what we came for. Find something to tie the rat up with, and then we'll go."

Mikey swallowed, closed his eyes for a moment, and opened them in time to see the bat strike him on the head. They needn't have taken the trouble, he thought to himself as his world started to become a numb black.

_I would have passed out anyway._

* * *

The three turtles joined April in the basement, knowing that the guards would not be far behind. April looked up to see the three brothers panting and gasping for breath. She knew they were missing the presence of Michelangelo in more ways than one. "Was there a lot of them?" She asked.

"Yeah, and more on their way, too," Raphael said, his hand already on the handle of his sai.

"All three of these guys have been injected with C-56," April said, gesturing to the three on the left side of the room. Already their colour had returned, and their breathing seemed to be returning to a normal rate.

"We know of a way out without going back up to the ground floor," David said hurriedly. "A fire escape, just off this corridor."

"Yeah, well, shall we start making tracks before..." Raph was cut off by heavy footfalls, followed by guards appearing in the open doorway. "Ah well, too late."

"April, we'll keep these guys busy, can you help get the others out of here?"

"I'll do my best," April said to Leonardo uneasily. There appeared to be a lot of the muscular guards, and the only exit was the narrow metal-framed doorway, which one guard could easily fill and keep blocked with his body.

"We'll hold them off," Leo assured her. "Probably better take these guys to the hospital, it's only a couple of blocks away."

Quietly, April said, "The vial for Mikey is on the tabletop, over there. I'll see you guys later."

"Sure thing," Leo replied, turning his attention back to the battle that was about to commence. He gripped his katana blades and slowly drew them out of their sheaths, vaguely aware of the metallic clink accompanying them. He gritted his teeth and glanced sideways at his brothers. He received curt nods from them in sync, and so the leader turned back to face the guards. Altogether, the three turtles let out battle cries and launched themselves at their foe, weapons clashing in a fierce clang of metal and wood.

April, David, Joe and the others quietly helped the ailing ones out of the room, careful to be discreet and not be spotted by the guards. They all escaped undetected, and it was only when they were half a block away from the hospital that one guard cursed loudly, having realised they had lost their test subjects.

The guards outnumbered the turtles, and slowly the foe began to have the upper hand in the fight, patiently battling whilst the turtles became weaker.

"Leo, think this is a good time to book?" Donny asked, struggling to hold a large guard at bay with his Bo staff.

"As good a time as any," Leo said, fending back two guards with his two katana swords crossed over in an X-shape. "Don, grab the vial and we'll make a break for it. The sooner we get it back to Mikey, the better."

Using every ounce of strength he possessed, Donatello pushed the guard back with his Bo, and reached for the vial of C-56 on the table. One guard realised his intent, and threw his weapon, a small dagger, towards the vial. With a well-practiced aim it hit the vial dead centre, smashing the thin glass bottle and letting the liquid slowly spread over the table.

* * *


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

* * *

The three turtles gasped, and their battle was refuelled with anger at the guards. Whilst Raphael and Leonardo punished them, Donatello acted quickly. From his faithful bag, he took out a jam jar and unscrewed the lid. Ignoring the pain as the tiny shards pierced his skin, he wiped the mess of liquid and glass into the jar, before screwing the lid on tightly.

"Come on, let's get out of here," he said gruffly, aggravated that the task of giving his brother the antigen was now more difficult and more time consuming than it was some seconds ago.

"But what about C-56?" Leonardo asked, not yet ready to put his swords away.

"I've got it covered," Donny called back. He made a break for the door before the guards got to him, his bag or the jar inside it. Raphael and Leonardo shot each other looks and swiftly followed, slamming the door to the fire exit behind them before the guards could pursue. By the time their opponents were outside, the turtles were long gone, having clambered into the van and began speeding down the streets of New York. They quickly arrived back at the lair and climbed out of the vehicle.

"Would someone _please _explain to me exactly why we're leaving without any antigen for Mikey?" Raphael demanded as he followed his brothers into the elevator that would take them back to their lair.

"I never said we left without _any _antigen," Donny said as the doors closed.

"I hate it when he does that," Raphael muttered to himself, feeling that the last thing anyone needed at that moment was for his genius brother to talk in riddles that no one really understood. "Get to the point, Donny."

"I gathered some of the liquid from C-56 that was on the table," Donny said, feeling the reverberations as elevator began to come to life. "I should have enough to study, analyse, and re-create the drug for Mikey."

"Can you do that?" Leo asked incredulously.

"And how long will it take?"

"We haven't got any other options; April and I searched that place, and what we found was all the C-56 there was. I'll recreate it, and I won't stop working until it's finished," he said with determination.

"All right," Leonardo sighed, knowing that they had no choice. "If anyone can do it, you can, Don."

"That goes for me too, bro," Raph added, forcing the encouragement. At that time, he was very worried about Michelangelo's state of health, and he knew already they had spent a great amount of time in the AMI building. How much more time could Mikey spare?

* * *

The three turtles entered the lair a short moment later, each having a task in mind for when they returned. Donatello aimed to immediately start working on reconstructing the C-56 drug, and then giving it to Mikey as soon as it was ready. He had looked into reconstructing molecules previously, and had all the equipment needed to do it. By nature, he was more a physicist than a chemist, but he knew what to do. As soon as the drug was ready, he would give it to his brother and pray for a full recovery.

Leonardo would begin by filling in Splinter about what had gone on at the AMI building. There had been many developments there, and he knew his Master would want to know about them. He would also find out from Splinter how Mikey was doing, before seeing for himself.

Raphael would probably go straight to Mikey, to check up on him and sit with him, and the other two brothers did not question this. There was an unspoken bond between Raphael and Michelangelo, one that the other members of the family had come to accept. Even though he would tease his brother at times, Raphael was always the first to sort out any other being that tried to hurt Michelangelo. And, at times when Raphael was at his most enraged, Michelangelo would be the one to break through the anger and calm his brother.

Of course, each of the turtles' plans was thrown straight out of the window once they opened the door and were greeted with the unexpected scene before them, of their Sensei lying on the floor, bound at the wrists and feet.

"Master Splinter!" Leonardo cried. He and Donatello sprinted to their master's side to untie the ropes.

Splinter opened his eyes, and relief washed over his face to see three of his sons had returned home safely. "Ah, my sons," he said gratefully as he sat up and rubbed his sore wrists, trying to get the circulation back into his paws.

Raphael, meanwhile, had quickly looked about the lair for his brother, to see if he was safe. He was more than dismayed when he could not find him. "Master Splinter, where's Mikey? He's not here!" He exclaimed, drawing a sai from his belt out of habit.

"I believe that some of the humans, the scientists, from the AMI building located our lair," Splinter explained. "There were too many of them to hold off. They took Michelangelo away with them."

Realisation dawned on Donatello. "The bug – of course! When I overheard their conversation, I thought they had mistaken us for bugs instead of turtles. When they fought with us in the alley, they must have planted a bug on one of us somehow, or maybe on Mikey, to trace us back to the lair."

Raphael let out an irate growl and hurled his sai across the room. It landed, point first, in the wall, and a large crack split around it. "This day just gets better and better!"

"Did you find a cure for Michelangelo's malady?" Splinter asked, fearing that there was bad news on the way. He was proved right when Leonardo explained all that had happened in the AMI building, from discovering the human test subjects in the laboratory to the vial of C-56 being damaged before they could get it home. Splinter listened intently, absorbing the information before pondering it for a few moments once Leonardo had finished the account.

"The priority is to go to the building and escort Michelangelo home, safely, and as soon as possible," Splinter said, considering a plan of action.

"But Master, I need to stay here and reconstruct the C-56 drug," Donny said insistently. "He needs that cure as soon as possible."

"Yes," Splinter said with a nod, "I understand. We have the dilemma of having only two of you to get Michelangelo out of the building. And we must act quickly, they may not stay there for long."

After a pause, Leonardo remembered, "They'll be there for even less time after April's called the police! We can't let the cops find Mike!"

"Then we act now," Splinter decided, speaking more calmly than he felt at that moment. "I will remain here and assist Donatello with anything he needs for recreating the antidote. Leonardo, call Miss O'Neill, and Raphael, alert Mr Jones. Tell them to meet you both at the AMI laboratory, to bring back Michelangelo."

* * *

Michelangelo opened his eyes slowly, and wondered why he did not see the slightly tatty poster of his favourite rock band on the wall of his bedroom, where it always was. He wondered why, instead, he saw the boggling eyes of a human poring over him, wide and not blinking as though he did not want to miss a milli-second of anything that he was looking at.

Mikey shrunk back, trying to move away from those wide, grey eyes. He found he could only move a few inches. He swerved his head from side to side, trying to work out why he could barely move. His eyes quickly spied the leather restraints around his wrists and his plastron, and, he assumed, around his ankles.

All of a sudden, the sensations that had been plaguing him over the last twenty-four hours came back to him, flooding him like a colossal tidal wave. The exhaustion, the fever and the nausea all returned with a vengeance, and Mikey had to close his eyes tightly and swallow hard to prevent from emptying his stomach.

"Why... are you doing this to me?" Mikey said through gritted teeth. It was by no means in a hurt or pleading tone. He was too ill to feel like that. Right then, apart from the physical discomfort, he felt only frustration and anger towards these men. He knew very well who these men were. These were the men that attacked him once in the alley, who used him as a guinea pig for some formula or other, and who disgraced him by making him appear drunk. These were the men who somehow tracked him to his home, beat both him and his Sensei, and then kidnapped him, taking him to their science laboratory to study like some unidentifiable alien or monster. These people had no decency whatsoever, Michelangelo decided. They did not have the decency to answer him, sparing him no more than an unreadable glance. And they apparently did not have the decency to cure him from whatever genetically modified disease they had injected him with in the first place.

Suddenly, Michelangelo felt very tired.

"Sir, his heart rate is beginning to drop," one younger scientist said from where he was observing a heart-monitor attached to the turtle.

"How rapidly?" A chief scientist asked curtly.

"Slowly, but steadily," came the reply.

"Damn those reptiles," cursed the supposed leader of the whole operation. "If they hadn't come in and started meddling with the experiment, we could have data on this creature to compare with that of the humans. At the moment, he's managed to outlast two of them, but we could have led endless studies on the comparisons between him and humans. Forget Y-56, we could have made billions from the studies and the comparisons alone! If only those damn creatures hadn't messed it all up!"

As thoughts of anger at scientists for hurting him turned to those of pure hatred for cursing his brothers, Michelangelo drifted into a state of unconsciousness.

* * *

"Hey, guys, what's the plan?" Casey asked, puffing and panting from the run from his downtown apartment to the AMI building. He was equipped with his hockey stick in one hand, and baseball bat in the golf club bag slung over his back, brought with him for good measure. He was out of his apartment in record time after receiving the call from Raphael. No one kidnapped one of his friends and got away with it, not without answering to Casey Jones first!

"There is no plan," Leonardo stated, "We haven't got time."

Raphael, April and Casey stared, open-mouthed, at Leo. It was hard to envisage the leader turtle without some kind of a plan, let alone hear it from his own mouth. After absorbing this, Raphael carefully asked, "surely, you must have some kind of a plan, right?"

"All right, I do. We burst in there, find Mikey, do whatever it takes to get him out, and get him out of there and back to the lair," Leonardo replied. "Happier now?"

"Much," Raph said gruffly. "C'mon, let's go!"

* * *

Only two guards patrolled the corridor of the first floor leading to the basement. Casey and his hockey stick made sure that, for the time being, they would not be causing any problems for Michelangelo's rescue. Once they had been taken care of, the turtles began to search the building.

"We'll look for Mikey as a group," Leonardo decided. "It's a small building, but there are a lot of guards and scientists in here, and we won't want to meet a bunch of them if there's only two of us. It won't take long to search as a group."

The four of them ran through the corridors, glancing in each room as they went. They searched every floor, but found no sign to say that anyone apart from themselves was present within the building.

"One floor left," April said, once they had finished searching the rest of the building. The others nodded, and quickly they headed towards the stairwell leading to the basement.

The fact that two guards were patrolling the basement corridor was a sure sign that there was something down there to be protected. Leonardo and Raphael stormed past the two guards in the lower corridor with April hurrying behind, leaving Casey to deal with them. They knew that for their brother, every second mattered, and in order to save time they had to keep the amount of fights they engaged in to the limit.

The group burst into the large basement room, which had earlier contained ten beds lined up with human test subjects occupying them, along with cages of animals. The beds and the animals were gone, and now the room contained one metal slab placed centrally in the room, surrounded by scores of machines and hundreds of wires, buzzing and beeping with activity. A dozen scientists looked up when they saw the intrusion, and gasped to see that the turtles were back. When they peered over each other to see who was at the door, the turtles and April could see that Michelangelo was the one lying on the metal slab of a table.

As Casey joined the others in the room, Leonardo stepped forward and said simply and firmly, "We've come for our brother."

"And what will you do with him afterwards? Only we have the cure," the leader scientist said, he himself advancing a step.

"Oh, we have your little C-56 drug," Raphael retorted in a cocky tone.

The scientist sneered, "We've been informed otherwise. All you have is a broken vial, we hear."

"We're getting it," Leonardo assured them.

"You're bluffing," said another scientist, the one with the moustache.

"Try us," Raphael sneered.

All at once, the furious fight began. The odds were four scientists to one of either Leo, Raph or Casey, but the scientists were amateur fights, and were a little easier to tackle. Whilst the fighting took place, April snuck through the confusion towards the metal table where Michelangelo laid, eyes closed, oblivious to the goings-on.

"Mikey," April said gently, shaking him slightly on the shoulder. "Come on, Mikey, we have to get you out of here."

Mikey stirred, and his head fell to the side, as though following the sound of April's voice. He cracked his eyes open, and let out a soft groan. "April?"

"Yeah, it's me, Mike," April said encouragingly. She knew she had to work fast, before one of the scientists spotted her. She hastily began to remove the wires stuck to Mikey's plastron and arms and said, "Quick, Mikey, we have to get out of here. Think you can walk a little, if I support you?"

Mikey nodded, and paused for April to undo the straps that secured him down. Then, he slowly slid off the metal table and to the floor, where he stood on shaky legs for a moment, before April put his arm around her shoulders and took some of his weight.

"This way," April said, moving past the commotion. They exited the room, and April breathed a sigh of relief to see that the two guards in the corridor were still on the floor, unconscious. The two made their way up the fire escape that she had gone through with the human test subjects not two hours earlier. She helped Mikey towards the van, around a corner where Leonardo and Raphael had parked it. They knew that their brother would be unable to travel through the sewers, and so had taken the van to the AMI laboratories. In the far-off distance she heard sirens, and she knew that the police were on their way. If, by that time, they had not dismissed the reports from herself and some of the test subjects about AMI, neighbours would have surely called the police due to the disturbances that had come from the building that evening.

Meanwhile, in the basement, the turtles and Casey heard the sirens. "Time to get the Shell out of here," Leonardo called to the others. Most of the scientists were out of action by then, and it took only a few moments to finish dealing with the rest and to run out the same alley-facing fire escape that April had taken Mikey up.

The three ran to the van and Leonardo immediately took the wheel, knowing that the police would be combing the area within minutes. In the back, Raphael, Casey and April sat with Mikey, trying to keep him comfortable. The walk from the laboratory table to the van had sapped what little he had left, and he had passed out once inside the van.

"I just hope Donny's got that cure ready," April said, expressing what was running through everyone's thoughts at that moment.

* * *

It had taken Donatello less time than he had expected to recreate the C-56 drug. He had managed to salvage a fair amount of the original drug from the table in the laboratory, thus had more to work with.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered to himself, putting the new chemical into a beaker, ready to inject into Michelangelo when his brothers returned to him. He had temporarily removed the word 'if' from his vocabulary.

He tried to imagine how long it had taken the scientists to develop the drug in the first place. Weeks? Maybe even months? And he had done it in less than two hours. But then, he thought wryly to himself, despite the scientists possessing the tens of thousands of dollars of equipment that could create the drug easily compared to his own equipment, they did not have the original drug to work with.

"I just hope it works," he murmured, looking at the clear liquid in the beaker.

"I have complete faith in you, my son," Splinter said positively. No one could be sure of the extent of Donatello's intelligence, but they could always be sure to never underestimate it. At that time, they were relying on it to save Michelangelo's life.

A few minutes later, the telltale noises of the elevator alerted Splinter and Donny to the fact that the others were back. The doors opened, revealing Raphael and Leonardo supporting their ailing brother, who looked quite weak at that moment, with April and Casey hanging back a little. His brother helped Michelangelo to the couch, where they laid him down and made him comfortable. Mikey did not make a single sound throughout the entire process, which sent alarm-bells ringing in everyone's heads.

"Don, did you finish making the stuff?" Raphael asked, a hint of urgency in his voice.

"Yeah, it's here," Donny said, bringing the beaker and the syringe over to the couch.

"Nice work, Donny," Leonardo said gratefully, feeling ever-so-slightly more at ease knowing that they had some kind of a cure for Michelangelo, if not the original one, but what he hoped to be an accurate duplicate of it.

With haste, Donatello injected the fluid into his brother's arm, leaving a small mark just below the original mark, which was fading after two days. "Now, we sit back and wait," Donny said, taking the equipment back to his workbench. _And hope_, he silently thought to himself.

* * *


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

* * *

It was sunrise in the city by the time those present in the lair realised that they had been sitting on tenterhooks for five hours, awaiting for Michelangelo to wake up from what seemed to be a deep coma. Casey and April had gone home long ago, promising to return later in the day to check on Mikey.

For those five hours Donny sat, mentally evaluating the creation of the drug. The scores of processes ran through his mind at lightning speed. For every second that his brother had not woken up, he blamed himself again and again. Why hadn't he just put the vial in his bag in the first place, when he had the chance? If he had, he would not have needed to have run the great risk of re-creating the drug with inferior equipment and when he lacked both the time and experience to do it properly. He should not even have taken on the responsibility of trying to make the drug. There could have always been another way. But instead, he took on the job and until his brother woke up, _if _his brother ever woke up, he had failed him and his family.

Leonardo, whilst hoping and praying that Mikey would wake up, could see that Donatello was mentally beating himself, and he tried to comfort his younger brother. It took his mind off the waiting for a while, at least. He placed a comforting hand on Donny's shoulder and said, "Don't give up hope yet, bro. Give him some time." Donny looked up and nodded appreciatively.

In truth, Leonardo was not feeling as positive as he sounded. He too was blaming himself for what happened. He should have stepped in right from the beginning, pushing Raphael to apologise to Mikey, or even to talk to him himself, to try and work things out. Raphael had told him exactly why Mikey had gone out that night, not to get drunk, but to train instead, because he felt he needed the practice. In reality, Mikey was more than up to the standard of the others. He had seemingly endless energy, something that propelled him to train and spar for just that bit longer than the others, and he had the persistence to improve his skills and to make sure that he got them right. That was probably why his brother went out in the first place – he was more of a perfectionist than anyone knew. Not quite to Leonardo's degree, but Mikey liked to improve on himself.

Raphael was sat on the floor, close to the sofa, watching and waiting intently for his brother to awaken. How he wished he had just swallowed his pride and apologised in the first place! If he had done so, he could have prevented Mikey from going out that night and being attacked by the scientists. He cared deeply for his little brother, and wanted nothing more than to be able to take the pain away from him. But it was never that easy. "I'm sorry, bro," he murmured, not loud enough for anyone but Splinter's sharp ears to hear.

Master Splinter was sat in his armchair, keeping a watchful eye over his sons, particularly his youngest son. He had watched Donatello create the antidote, and saw that his bright son knew exactly what he was doing. At the time, Donatello had managed to detach himself from what he was doing, or rather, who he was doing it for, and he had no doubts about his capabilities or that he might be in over his head. Now though, having been given the time and space to do so, those doubts began to arise with each passing second that Michelangelo was not waking up. Leonardo too was having doubts and fears, but these were about his role as the big brother and as the leader. Splinter knew that in time, Leonardo would realise that he cannot take every mistake upon himself and put them right, and that not everything that goes wrong is his responsibility. And Raphael, he felt as though he had let his brother down, and that he had instigated the entire problem by teasing Michelangelo in the first place. Splinter knew that Michelangelo would unconditionally love his brother and forgive him for any wrongs caused, as was one of the unwritten terms in the bond between the two.

"When's he gonna wake up, Sensei?" Raphael asked, looking up to his Master. In a glimmer of a moment, Raphael did not look like the tough, hardened sixteen-year-old he had grown to be, but he looked like an innocent five-year-old who'd just awoken from a nightmare, and needed to be told that everything was all right. The mask only slipped for a second, though, and he instantly replaced his frowning visage.

Splinter answered, "He needs peace, Raphael. A wise man once said, a watched pot never boils."

"Yeah? You're still sitting here, same as you were five hours ago," Raphael said back cheekily. He knew it was wrong to backchat his Master. He always knew when he was doing wrong. But he still did it. It relieved some of the tension that had to sometimes relieve in other ways – usually physically. He knew he had done wrong, and he also knew that he was not about to get away with it.

"A wise man also said not to talk back to his Master," Splinter said crossly. Even though everyone was under a great amount of stress, he was not about to relent to rudeness taking place.

"Sorry, Sensei," Raphael replied apologetically.

"Master Splinter's right – he's not going to wake up any faster if we all sit here, waiting for him to," Leonardo said, standing up. "Who wants breakfast?"

"Now you're talking my language, dude," said a hoarse voice from the couch. Four pairs of startled eyes turned towards Michelangelo, and saw that he was awake and attempting to sit up.

"Take it easy, Mike," Donny said cautiously. He added another cushion in an attempt to make his brother more comfortable.

"How long have you been awake?" Raphael asked with mock suspicion. In truth, he was overjoyed to see his brother awake and looking better than he had in some days.

"Long enough to hear you try and answer back to Master Splinter – so busted, bro!" Mikey said, enjoying the slight look of unease drift over Raphael's face.

"How do you feel, Mikey?" Leonardo asked, becoming serious for a moment.

"Not bad, Leo," Michelangelo replied sincerely. His voice was still a little croaky – a telltale sign that he was weaker than his brightness and humour let on. "Did someone find some aspirin or how did I get better? And more to the point, how did I get back from the crazy scientists' lab?"

"Boy genius over there re-created the cure for you," Raph said, jerking a thumb in the direction of a blushing Donatello.

"And that was after you two, Casey and April rescued you from the AMI building," Donny reminded them, not willing to take all of the credit for the restoration of his brother's good health.

"Man, I must have missed a lot," Mikey said wistfully. He felt a little left out, having been unconscious for much of the adventure. "You guys can tell me all about it. But, before you do, someone said something about breakfast a second ago," he added, dropping the hint.

"I think we can safely say that Michelangelo is back to normal," Splinter said with a grin. With that, the rat volunteered to make breakfast, whilst the other three filled their brother in on all that he had missed.

* * *

The End

* * *

Note: The end! I wish I had a prize for everyone that made it to the end... ah well. I've warned people before and I'll warn you again, I am weak at endings, but I done my best. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I really, really appreciate the feedback. Most of all, I hope you enjoyed reading it!


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